The Sins Of Our Fathers Affair
by MLaw
Summary: Napoleon investigates an attempt on the lives of Illya and his family. Actions by a member of the Soviet delegation to the U.N. force Kuryakin to reveal details about his past. het/violence/ language ch 8-9-10  prequel to "Kyiv  #18 Saga-series AU
1. Chapter 1

_**"It is not the flesh and blood but the heart which makes up fathers and sons"~Johann Christoph Fredrich von Schiller**_

**"The Sins of Our Fathers Affair"**"

"La lalalalalalalala la"

" Da da da da."

"La lalalalalalal la, brrrrrrr!"

"Da da da daaaaaa?"

"La la la laaaaaa...daaaaaa!"

"Kotoryi devochka papy, da ty daaaaaa ty_who is papa's little girl, you are you aaaare!"

Illya Kuryakin was sitting on his living room sofa holding his tiny infant daughter in his arms, cooing and smiling to her as only a father could do. Her legs and arms were in a constant state of motion, still being as active a baby as when her mother was carrying the child in her womb.

Her squirming and continuous babbling had her father grinning in delight, even though she had been born prematurely; she was ahead of the curve developmentally, which was a source of great pride to the Russian.

A moment later his son Demya appeared munching on a cookie; he flopped on the couch then squeezed himself beside his father, snuggling up close to him.

"Can I hold Lala?"

"May..."

"May I hold Lala?"

"Once you finish your cookie, yes you may." Illya nodded.

Demmy proceeded to shove the whole morsel in his mouth, then held out his arms to receive his little sister.

"Nyet. Chew it all first then swallow it. And please do it slowly, I do not want you to choke?"

"Mda mpapa." The boy tried answering with his mouth full.

His father chose not to correct him, but only shook his head with a smile. Since his son's harrowing kidnapping and rescue Illya found himself being less strict with the child, and more apt to let little things just slide. He realized now that some of it was just not that important, and was simply thankful that his boy was safe and alive.

Kuryakin was winding down the last day of family leave that Waverly had granted him. The search and rescue of Demya from the madman Owen Smythe, and the premature birth of Lourdes Mary and wounding of their mother needed adjustment time for both parents as well as their son.*

Demya seemed happy enough, but there were still signs that he had been traumatized by his ordeal. When first arriving back home from England he was very frightened and would not leave either his father or mother's side. He became very clingy, but to them it was completely understandable.

They were both adamant about the boy not being taking for psychiatric care, but Illya relinquished; consulting with Dr. Mansur of the psyche department in medical. He refused however, to bring the boy in to speak with him. So far, Mansur was pleased with Demya's progress under the watchful eyes of his parents; knowing that it would take time to resolve and assuage the child's fears.

They indulged the boy, letting him sleep in bed with them at first as he was terrified to be away from them for just a moment. Eventually they weaned him from sleeping with them, finally getting him back to his own bed, but then the frequent bed-wetting started. So then constant monitoring of his fluid intake began, and he was not permitted to drink anything after a certain time. That seemed to solve the problem.

From time to time there were nightmares, and he would scream out in the middle of the night for his father. He had developed a fear of the dark, so a night light was left on in his room, one that reflected stars on the ceiling making feel like he was outside and not confined to his room.

Little by little his confidence returned, especially when it came to watching out for his baby sister. Lala he called her instead of Lourdes Mary, at first because he just couldn't get her name out right, then the name just stuck with all of them.

This surprised his parents, as he was so gifted with foreign languages. They weren't sure if the baby picked it up from him, or he from her; but she constantly would babble La la la la along with her giggles and coos. And that became her pet name. Illya liked it as _Lala_ was actually a Slavic word meaning tulip. So she was his little red tulip."

.

A few minutes later Demmy's task of eating his cookie was completed and his father placed the baby in his son's lap, carefully cradling her head, making sure she was in proper position before releasing Lala into her brother's arms.

"She is very pretty papa," he whispered as he rocked her gently.

"She is beautiful, just like both my children," Illya smiled, giving his son a kiss on the forehead.

"I will teach you a song to sing to your sister. It is a lullaby, a song to send a child to sleep. I sang it to you when you were this small."

"I was this tiny papa, really?"

"Da vy byli_yes you were, but now you are a big boy, and a big brother."

"Yes I am." Demya said proudly.

"Listen to the song carefully, so you can sing it to Lala as well."Illya whispered, noting that his daughter was already drifting off to sleep.

"Lyuli, Lyuli, Lyulenki

Gde ty, gde ty moya malen'kii golubyei

leta' nakrovat', machinayut vorkovat'

Lyuli, Lyli, Lyulenki

Oni prishli, vypolnyayushchie ryeisy vposteli

Sel golovnu, ohranyaya Vash son

Nachali vorkovat', nachal zasypat'

Lyuli, Lyuli, Lyulenki

_Lyuli, Lyuli, Lyulenki

Where are you where are you my little doves

fly on the bed, start to coo

Lyuli, Lyuli, Lyulenki

They came flying to the bed

Sat down by your head, guarding your sleep

Started to coo, begin to fall asleep

Lyuli, Lyuli, Lyulenki"

"Doves sitting on your bed, that's funny papa."

"Not real doves sitting there Demya, it is a metaphor."

"What's a metaphor papa?"

"It's a thing symbolic... representation, in this case doves are a symbol of peace."

"Oh so the song wishes peace to the baby."

"Da, horosho sdelali moego syna_ yes, well done my son." Illya smiled. "So do you remember it?"

"I think so papa"

"Go ahead then, sing it softly though."

Illya was very pleased as his son repeated the song back to him almost word for word, needing very little prompting.

"Well done Demyachka, and you sang it quite nicely. You have a good strong voice."

Elliott stood in the hallway grinning from ear to ear as she heard Illya teaching their son the song. He loved the boy very much, but there was something different between Illya and Lourdes Mary, there was adoration. Illya had mentioned how much the baby reminded him of his sister Katiya, and Elliott supposed that might have been what was making his connection so strong with Lourdes Mary.

He said there were things about her that were so much like his Katiya; it was as if she had come back to him though the birth of his daughter. That adoration did not mean that he loved Demmy any less, it was just a different sort of connection between father and daughter.

It became very quiet in the living room, but she hesitated going in just yet, not wanting to interrupt a private moment between a father and his babies.

Lourdes was fast asleep as Illya carefully took her from Demya, cradling her again in his own arm. He reached out putting his free arm around his son, holding him close as the boy rested his head against his father's chest. A few minutes later Demya was asleep. Illya laid his own head against the sofa, drifting off himself.

Elliott walked into the living room, seeing Illya holding his children, sound asleep with his head back and his mouth hanging open, making him snore ever so slightly.

She tiptoed away, returning with her Bier 35mm camera that she'd picked up on her last trip to West Germany, holding it carefully as depressing the shutter button as it would sometimes cause camera shake, and this was one photograph that she did not want blurred.

The click of the shutter woke Illya instantly. "Mmm, fell asleep," he whispered.

"I noticed, " she smiled, holding up the camera. "let me take her. It's time for bed anyway, we have a big day tomorrow you and I."

Elliott gently scooped up her daughter from her father's arm, while Illya maneuvered himself to pick up Demya. Together they took their children upstairs to their rooms. Then seizing the opportunity, they took off to their own bedroom, stripping off their clothes in a rush, diving into bed, making love. When they were finished Elliott lay snuggled in Illya's arms. "You realize how terribly spoiled we have been?" he whispered to her as he nibbled on her throat.

"I know. It's back to work tomorrow for ye, and I'll not be far behind ye."

"I am worried about Demya. I do not think he will be ready for us to leave," he sighed.

"Well there's no choice in it, ye have to go back. We both do. I think he'll be alright." She rolled over facing him; her fingers playing with the hair on his chest.

"Mmmm, well that is tomorrow," he said, leaning over, kissing her on the lips, then using his tongue to tease her. She pulled herself up, climbing on top of him as he helped balance her with his hands as she leaned on her knees. Then he ran his hands along her body, touching here everywhere he knew intimately would excite her. He pulled himself up to a sitting position, driving his tongue past her lips as he thrust up into her. They both climaxed with soft moans of pleasure, then collapsed back onto the bed, still wrapped in each others arms.

Elliott's head lifted suddenly, "Did ye hear that...Lala?"

"I will go, you stay." Illya climbed out of bed, pulling on his boxers before walking out to his daughter's bedroom next door.

He found Demya holding his sister rocking her gently.

"She woke up papa, I am trying to get her to go back to sleep."

"Demyachka, you are doing a very good job, but please make sure that papa or mama is with you when you pick up your sister. You must be very careful about supporting her head, and of course you must not drop her. We need to help you a bit longer with that I think, da? Promise me that?" He thought for a moment that his son was getting just a little too good at moving around the house without being heard.

Illya took Lourdes from her brother's arms, realizing she needed to be changed, carrying her over to the changing table.

"Demmy," his mother called from the door, noticing he was in his underwear. They had dressed in his pajamas when they had put him in his bed. "did ye have another accident?"

He lowered his head, this time beginning to cry, "I'm sorry, mama I didn't mean to. It just happened."

Elliott wrapped her arms around him giving him a hug, looking at Illya while he was changing the baby. "I know sweetheart, it was an accident, don't cry. Now come on, help mama change your sheets and we'll get ye another pair of jammies, alright?" She wrapped her arm around his little shoulders, walking him back to his room.

"My provynni robyty shchos' pro tse_we need to do something about this, it's getting worse instead of better." she spoke in Ukrainian, as Demmy did not understand that language yet.

"Ya pohovoryu z Mansruom_ I will speak to Mansur," he answered reluctantly.

The next morning was not a good one, Demya knew that his father was leaving to return to work. The boy went into a full blown screaming and crying tantrum.

"Noooo please papa, please don't go. I don't want you to go. I'm scared."

Elliott held Lourdes in her arms, the baby screaming at the top of her lungs as he mother rocked her, trying to shush her.

"Annushka, please a moment?"

She disappeared into the kitchen, giving Illya a moment alone with his son.

He knelt down, holding the boy by his shoulders. "Demyachka, vy ne dolzhny plakat'. Papa budet horosho, i vy besopasnosti_ You must not cry. Papa will be fine and you are safe."

"You will be here with Auntie Olga and besides, it is your job to watch over your sister. Just like papa and mama have a job to do, so do you."

"Da, papa," the boy sniffled as he calmed. Yes, he had to be brave and protect his little sister and he couldn't do that if he let himself cry and be frightened. "I will be brave papa, I promise."

"I know you will be."Illya smiled, "You are the bravest boy that I know. Now give your papa a hug and a kiss. I must go to work now with Uncle Napoleon."

Demya wrapped his arms around his father's neck, giving him a big kiss on the cheek. "I love you papa"

It was all Illya could do to keep from crying himself, as he pulled his son into a bear hug, kissing him on the top of his head several times "

"Promise me you will be a big boy when it is mama's turn to leave for work later?"

"Da papa."

Elliott walked back into the hallway with the baby now having been calmed. Illya reached out kissing his wife and daughter. He brushed his son's head with his hand as headed out the door, returning to reality; his life of covert intrigue, espionage and danger.

His home, his family were his refuge, yet they were his weakness too. Owen Smythe had proven that. In a way his family was a fantasy, more like a dream and escape from his life as a spy. A welcome relief but a precarious one, but now it was time to leave this safe haven. As much as it pained him to do that, especially with Demya's fears still being evident; he still had a job to do, an important one. Though he thought he would never admit it; he needed it just as he needed the love of his family.

There was always talk of agents being addicted to the thrill of the job, but with Illya it wasn't that. He wasn't sure exactly what it was, but knew he felt compelled, it was his job and he had to do it.

.

*ref "The Vengeance is Mine Affair"


	2. Chapter 2

Napoleon Solo felt like he had died and gone to heaven as he sat on the edge of the bed rocking his daughter Lucine ...his little Luci in his arms, babbling and cooing to her.

"Who's daddy's little girl? Yes you are...yes you are." Then he blew her kisses.

She looked up at her father with her violet eyes, gurgling in response to his attentions as he brushed his hand gently across her head of dark hair. It was hard to say who the girls looked like physically yet as they still had that soft round chubby look, the only trait that easily identifiable was that they both had their mother's unusual eye color.

His wife Bella sat beside him holding Luci's twin sister Apollonia, and had just finished breast feeding Poly as they called her for short, holding her up, patting her on the back.

"Hey Luci's smiling at me." Napoleon grinned.

"Sorry dear, I think that's gas."

"Gas? Well it looks like a smile to me...ugh, noooo Luci?"

"What's wrong Napoleon?"

"She just went and the diaper leaked onto my pants," he moaned, dangling Luci above his leg.

Bella put Poly into the crib then took Luci from her father's arms, holding her out so has to not share the mess the baby had just dumped on her daddy." Go, change your suit, you'll be late for work. I'll take care of her."

"Thank you my darling," he said giving her a peck on the cheek.

"Hey, isn't Illya back to work today?" Bella called to him as he stood in front of the the closet, eyeing which suit to wear. He finally chose a charcoal grey one, this latest addition to his Italian collection.

He looked at his watch, cursing silently to himself; if he didn't hustle he'd be late for his briefing with Waverly. And he had to admit, he was excited about his partner being back at work.

He'd taken a week's vacation when the twins came home, having made arrangements with one of Bella's cousins to help her with them when he wasn't around. Illya however had been on a family leave; it running into several months, counting their time in England waiting for Lourdes Mary to be ready to travel, then spending time at home not only taking care of a preemie, but his son who was traumatized by the ordeal of his kidnapping.

Napoleon walked to the crib, leaning down kissing each of his daughters on their tiny hands, then kissed his wife goodbye. He headed out of the penthouse, taking the elevator down to the street, moving with a little more spring in his step than usual as he hailed a taxi with the wave of his hand and sharp whistle. He climbed into the yellow checkered cab, giving the driver the address to Del Florias.

Even though he'd seen Illya while on leave he was looking forward to being on assignment with his partner again, like old times. It seemed like it had been ages since they'd been out in the field battling the bad guys and saving the world together.

At least that's what he hoped it would be. The two of them had settled their differences, and sworn peace between them, but he was still just a bit nervous. The true test would be when he and Illya were out on assignment.

There was no doubt in his mind that his Russian friend would still have his back, and it was just an uneasiness that needed to dissipate and that would only happen once they were back together; the feeling would no doubt fade quickly.

He was sure they would fall into their old rhythms, their patterns and routines of working together. It had gotten to the point that many times they would finish each other's sentences, making it seem like they could almost read each other's minds. Or maybe it was like Illya could read his mind...sometimes he wondered about that.

They'd discussed bits of the Russian's past; Illya having spoken of his gypsy Uncle Vanya who told him that he possessed the _gift_. Apparently an inherited ability to sense things, and given the prescient behavior of his partner over the years; he became a believer in Illya's so-called gift...just one of many that his friend possessed.

.

Napoleon quickly straightened his tie as the pneumatic door to the conference room opened. He smiled, seeing Illya seated at the table in his usual chair, Waverly was at his console, along with them were Mark Slate and April Dancer.

"Good morning Mr. Solo, so good of you to grace us with your presence." Waverly said sarcastically, " please be seated so we can begin."

"Sorry sir." He said as he slipped into his chair beside Illya.

"My first day back and you are late?" Illya chided in a low voice.

"Luci decided to dump a little mess into my life, specifically onto my pant leg...had to do a quick wardrobe change." He whispered out of the side of his mouth.

"Oh, it came from that end, wait until it happens from both at the same time and be prepared for it to happen again...and again." Illya smiled.

"Ahem, something you gentlemen wish to share?" Waverly interrupted.

"No, not at this time sir." Napoleon answered.

"Very well then, we'll get started." Waverly flicked a switch on his console.

Several images flashed on the video screen. Waverly naming them specifically as the ambassadors from the newest additions to the U.N.

"Tomorrow evening there will be a small reception at the United Nations in honor of the three new member nations Swaziland, Mauritius, and Equatorial New Guinea. A number of member nations will be present with their personal security teams including the Soviet representative Yakov Malik and of course his usual entourage from the KGB.

His image appeared next on the the screen followed by those of his security team. Three men with dark hair, one blond and one with auburn hair, looking typically Russian, though several of them sported crew cuts favored by the Stasi.

"Mr. Kuraykin if you please?"

"Yes sir, the first one is Anatoly Nijinsky senior agent, the next Alexi Gorbenko, Ivan Panova and lastly Kiril Andropov. All quite deadly, and some of their best as well."

He looked to Waverly for any sign of recognition at the last name, but saw none. Though Andropov had short auburn hair, brown eyes and sported a goatee, Illya hoped the man's other physical characteristics would go unnoticed to the others.

Napoleon watched as his partner shifted his position in his chair, only he was aware that was a sign of Illya's nervousness at the mention of the KGB. He'd heard the name Kiril Andropov before, but couldn't quite remember when, as it seemed it was a long time ago.

"Mr. Kuryakin, I know your more recent experiences with the KGB have not been pleasant ones to say the least, but I have had assurances from Mr. Malik himself that there well be no contact between you and his people. You are off limits. The U.N. is neutral territory and will remain as such, and I must caution you that the same neutrality holds true when it comes to your fellow countrymen, am I understood?"

Illya cocked his head, not being quite sure what that implied, but it was not his place to disagree with the Old Man. "Understood sir."

"Gentlemen and Miss Dancer, I will be in attendance at this reception and will be in discussions with the new member's leadership regarding partnership with our organization. These fledgling countries, "the Old Man suddenly smiled at his unintended joke, " are easy fodder for the machinations of Thrush, so it is best we get to them before _they_ do one way or another."

"There is a complication beyond this concern as there are rumors that our feathered adversaries may make an attempt on the lives of the delegates, with the intention of replacing them with people who lean more towards Thrush's way of thinking.

"Swaziland, Mauritius and Equatorial New Guinea yep, they'll be real strongholds in world domination," Mark quipped.

"Mark dear, never underestimate the stupidity of Thrush."April smiled." but using a small country as a base of operations is something they've tried before."

"And I suspect they will continue to try that maneuver until they are successful." Waverly added. "But in the meantime let's be sure that it doesn't happen any time soon?"

"Will there be one of our security teams in place as well sir." Napoleon asked.

"Not inside Mr. Solo, you four are it, actually five in the reception, though there will be agents stationed outside. The fifth member of your team previously briefed, is in a section meeting at the moment. There will be personal body for the delegates as well as United Nations security being present.

"And this fifth person is...?" Illya asked.

"Why Miss McGowan of course." Waverly still had the habit of referring to Elliott by her maiden name, thinking it caused less confusion as to which Kuryakin was being referred to in briefings and general conversation.

"But she is retired from the field." Illya blurted out.

"Though she is the head of Section III, she can and will indeed do work in the field as needed. " Waverly snapped. "Rest assured, she knows what she is doing Mr. Kuryakin.

Illya removed his tinted glasses as he lowered his head, hiding the annoyance showing on his usually placid face.

The meeting concluded, and the four agents headed out together.

"So how are the twins Napoleon, and what was this little mishap that made you late?" April smiled.

"A leaking diaper, I believe," Illya laughed."

Napoleon crinkled his nose, "Yes a rather stinky diaper at that. It's amazing that something so little can..."

"Ew, never mind, " April said, " I get the picture, better you than me."

"What no motherly instincts my girl?" Napoleon smiled.

"I'm perfectly happy with being Auntie April, but that's it...no thank you, no kids for me. When I retire, I plan to be very selfish, just me and mister right... when I find him that is."

"What about you Mark, don't you want a family some day?" Napoleon asked.

Mark, being the youngest of the group made a rather smart remark.

"Guv I suppose when I get to be _your_ age I might think about it, but for now I prefer being footloose and fancy free with the birds, and I don't mean the Thrush kind either."

That brought a chuckle among the agents for a moment.

"If you will excuse me I need to have a discussion with my wife." Illya said.

"Hey remember, she's a section head and technically outranks you!" April teased.

"Thank you for that reminder Miss Dancer," Illya half smiled, as he bowed, turning the next corner heading to the elevator.

"Illya, we'll be coming up to her office shortly," Napoleon said.

When Kuryakin arrived in his wife's office he found it empty, then looked at his watch as he sat on the couch waiting patiently for her arrival from her meeting.

Ten minutes later, the door barely opened, before he spoke to her. "And when were you planning to tell me about the U.N. assignment?"

"Jay-sus, ye half scared me ta death. Good thing I'm only wearing my backup pistol on my ankle. Ye know we're not allowed ta talk about these things," she said hiding her smile as she put a pile of folders on her desk.

"Since when? We stopped doing that a long time ago." he said, wrapping his arms around her waist.

"I was just teasin', the Old Man didn't tell me until this morning just before my own meeting. Ye are not really bothered by it are ye, it's just a security detail...a cake walk."

"I know, it just came as a surprise that is all." He said, giving her a little peck on the cheek. " How was Demyachka when you left him?"

"Looking very much like his father, stoic and stiff-lipped. He was hovering over Lala like a vulture even with Olga being there."

"I look like a stiff-lipped vulture?" Illya said looking a little miffed.

"Oh stop!" Na bí dana_don't be bold," she said in Irish, poking him in the one spot she knew he was ticklish.

He squirmed as he laughed."_Stoi_, what if someone walks in?" Then he suddenly changed his mind, bending Elliott over backwards in a very passionate kiss.

At that moment Napoleon walked through the door, "He get a room you two." he sniped jokingly.

Elliott pulled herself away, grabbing a stack of papers from her desk shuffling them straight, her face a little flushed with embarrassment at being caught in a lip-lock.

"Elliott, I don't care?" Napoleon laughed.

"Well I do, it's not professional behavior at work," she said, eyeing her husband.

Illya looked between the two of them then pointed. "She started it."

"Alright children enough." Napoleon said, " we need to talk turkey about tomorrow."

"Turkey?" Illya looked at him strangely.

"You know I _swear _to God you do this on purpose. Talk turkey...have a serious discussion?"

"Oh,"Illya smiled at him, "I thought perhaps you were referring to today's luncheon special at the commissary. Since Tillie is on vacation; I have my doubts as to the quality of the _turkey surprise_."

Napoleon eyed him warily, not knowing if his partner was being serious or not.

"Look here's the skinny. You and Elliott..."

"Wait, skinny?'

"Illya come on? Did a couple of months off with your children cause you to lose a few IQ points?"

"Excuse me, my children are highly intelligent."

"An how many times have you said lalalalala and goo goo, and who's daddy's little girl in the past thirty days alone?"

"Point well taken," Illya said with a completely deadpan face.

April Dancer and Mark Slate walked through the door. joining them.

"Okay whats the scoop? " April asked.

Illya looked at Napoleon playfully but said nothing this time.

"Alright...here's the plan. Mark, Elliott and April will be dressed as catering staff, while Illya and I will stay with Waverly. We'll keep in touch by remote radio, and earpieces. The Old Man has assured me that at no time will he leave the reception, except to use the men's room. It's pretty straight forward and simple and he doesn't anticipate any real problems."

"Then why is he putting on his top five agents, instead of a security detail from section V?" Mark asked.

"Good point, " Napoleon said, " But if you were in his shoes in a highly public venue surrounded by people from countries, some of whom are known to be unfriendly to U.N.C.L.E. wouldn't you want your best agents covering your back?"

"Right, gotcha mate."

Illya looked at his watch. "I do not know about you, but it is lunch time and I for one am quite hungry."

"Blimey you're always hungry," Mark laughed.

"Commissary?"April asked.

"No, how about Chang's? I will be treating." Illya said.

They all stood with their mouths open, staring at him in shock...including Elliott.

"Well I am." Illya shrugged, a little surprised at their reactions.

"Are you feeling alright tovarisch?"

"I feel fine, why do you ask?" Illya said as they all headed down the corridor together, knowing he had deliberately shocked them.

"Ummm, nothing. Never mind, forget I asked." Napoleon decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth. He was surprised that Illya was not holding him to paying for their meal as he had sworn as part of their reconciliation. Or at least that was what Illya had threatened.*

.

They all sat in a booth at the rear of Chang's Chinese restaurant enjoying each other's company. It was a rare occasion that these five agents were together especially when not on an assignment and a treat for Mr. Lee the owner to see that many of his favorite customers there at one time. After so many years, Lee had finally been vetted by U.N.C.L.E. with his restaurant listed as a approved dining site for agents in a group setting.

In the center of their table was a large lazy-Susan filled with food; the house special, a Pu-Pu platter containing a wide variety of edibles for them all to pick at; egg rolls, chicken wings, skewered beef teriyaki, fried dumplings, crab rangoon and beef spare ribs. Plus they each had bowls of steaming wonton mein soup, Chang's house specialty. These were just the appetizers before their entrees arrived.

"Elliott did you ever hear the story of Illya's first encounter with a submarine sandwich?" Napoleon said, as he popped a dumpling into his mouth.

"Please enlighten me?" Elliott asked, suspecting it was going to be funny.

"Napoleon." Illya warned.

He ignored his partner as he proceeded to describe the look of dismay in the Russian's eyes when he was handed his first submarine sandwich. He stared, studying it after unwrapping it, not quite not knowing what to do then finally gave up and took a bite from it right in the middle.

"Not from the end?" Elliott laughed, " that must have been an interesting sight, and what did ye do when you ate through the middle?"

"I started on the next middle." Illya smiled proudly. " You think that is amusing; you should have seen the first time Napoleon tried to use chopsticks."

"That was not funny." Solo groused, though admittedly he'd been trying to master the use of chopsticks since his army days and still having difficulty; he generally avoided using them, but this particular instance that Illya was referencing; he'd decided to give them a try again...regretfully giving his partner ammunition for later use.

"It was from my point of view, I think you ended up wearing more of the meal than you ate of it. And I notice you still have not gotten the hang of them," Illya commented as the next dumpling Solo tried to spear with his chopsticks dropped onto the table.

Napoleon made a face at him, then laughed. "Just like old times," he smiled.

.

* ref "The Vengeance is Mine Affauir"


	3. Chapter 3

The delegates arrived in droves to the reception in the private room reserved for such occasions at the United Nations complex. The screening process seemed to take forever as guest credentials were checked then double checked by U.N. personnel before allowing them entry to the event. The warning by U.N.C.L.E. had put them on alert.

Each personal security team accompanying the high profile delegates needed additional permits to carry their weapons. U.N.C.L.E. was blessedly exempt from this as they were granted a special clearance in accordance with their secret charter with the United Nations.

April, Elliott and Mark dressed as catering staff moved freely about the room carrying trays of hors' douevres for the guests, working different sections, trading off their positions from time to time. Their eyes darting everywhere keeping a lookout among the the nearly two hundred people in attendance.

Illya recognized Mendelssohn's Andante in E major as he wandered past the string quartet performing in a back corner of the room; the smell of food wafting through the air was making his stomach rumble just a little bit when Elliott walked by holding a tray with a few canapé left on it.

"Excuse me miss." he said to her, grabbing a small plate of hors d'oeurves. "I am starving," he mumbled.

"What else is new? Everything else alright?"

"So far...by the way," he smiled, popping a lobster roll into his mouth as he admired the tight, mini-skirted black and white waitress costume in which she was attired. " Wear that home tonight...please?"he whispered to her.

"Oh ye are terrible...wait, I thought you liked the French maid outfit?"

"I do, but this is rather sexy too."

"Incorrigible," she said walking away with the empty tray.

Suddenly Illya heard the voice of his partner speaking into his earpiece.

"You know I heard that, next time turn your volume down...or better still, no flirting on the job."

Illya brought the transmitter clipped to the cuff of his jacket close to his mouth. " Look who the pot is calling the kettle black."

"Oh _that_ one you get right." Solo chuckled as he stayed glued to Waverly's side. "Just remember Goldilocks this is not a secure channel? By the way, nice tux Did you actually splurge and buy another one?"

"Yes another Oleg Cassini, I rather like the cut."

"My heart be still, first you buy dinner at Changs and now another designer tuxedo. Am I finally beginning to rub off on you?"

"Perish the though Mother Goose."

Napoleon kept in constant contact with his partner, using their code names as they were sure the frequency was being monitored. He continued to watch as the Russian disappeared into the crowd; knowing that he was nearby, being invisible as he was so good at doing.

Waverly was trying his best to speak to the new member delegates, warning them of the evils of Thrush and other such organizations who might attempt to take advantage of their fledgling status in the world of international politics.

Thought these sort of assignments were far and few between, Solo always found it a pleasure to watch the Old Man work the crowd. Waverly was amazing, the twinkle in his eye, the subtle gestures, the turn of the head could make all the difference in swaying someone.

Napoleon called him a Svengali when it came to dealing with people. He only hoped he could be that good when it came his turn to sit in the man's chair. Waverly would definitely be a tough act to follow.

It was then that Illya spotted Yakov Malik surrounded by his security people, all except Andropov. That made him nervous, wondering where that pain in the ass was, somewhere in the room no doubt. Illya looked around scanning the crowd for Kiril...then he heard the all too familiar voice from behind him.

"Tak vot Illuyshenka_so there you are Illuyshenka. I was wondering if they would let you come out to play tonight. Were you looking for me?"

Illya barely acknowledged him. "Yesli u vas budet ohrany troi hozyain_should you not be guarding your _master_?" He made sure this time that he turned the volume down on his transmitter, as it was a conversation he wanted no one else to hear.

"Very funny," Kiril said." and coming from you who are still so afraid of dogs, yet it seems you are one they keep on a tight leash like the mongrel that you are. Still they do not trust you enh?"

"Go away, you are just as annoying as ever and I believe you are in violation of your protocols as you were instructed to leave me alone were you not?"

"You did not think that I was annoying when we were young, always coming after me. Trying to talk to me and make friends? And then at University when you hovered over me, being so magnanimous as you imparted your knowledge to me...you were and still are a pompous know-it-all."

"I tried to help you!"

"Help me? You just wanted to show me how superior you were to me and make me feel like I was still a nothing a nobody."

"How you felt about yourself was your own doing, not mine." Illya snarled at him just a little. My brother Dimitry tried to warn me about you. You were bad news back in the camp in Bykivnia, as I finally realized you were at University and just as you still are now. I am surprised that KGB has tolerated you this long."

"Still the pretentious prick are you not Illuyshenka, perhaps you need to be taken down a peg or two." Kiril laughed, then whispered as he leaned in towards his fellow Russian.

"Here is a little secret for you...that night in the camp in Bykivnia so long ago. You were so sure that some one betrayed the location of the partisan camp and in that you were right...it was I Illuyshenka. I betrayed you all." * Kiril pivoted, taking off at a dead run heading for the kitchen, with Illya's face having gone as white as a ghost chased after him, hot on his heels.

"Mother Goose!" Mark called into his microphone using Napoleon's code name. "Something is up. Goldilocks is on the move, heading toward the kitchen, fast!"

Illya ran though the door following after Kiril; moments later there were loud crashes then several screams.

"Illya?" Napoleon called to him, ignoring his code name but there was no answer. He rushed Waverly out of the reception to his waiting limousine, as did several other security teams with their own charges, including the Soviet delegation.

"Go after him!" Napoleon ordered. April, Mark and Elliott ran into the kitchen with their weapons drawn, seeing several people lying on the floor, others cowering in fear; food, pots and pans were scattered everywhere.

"Where?" Elliott demanded,

The kitchen staff pointed to the back towards a rear exit, sending the three agents rushing down a corridor past the rolling racks of food and supplies, out the door leading to a loading dock.

It was dark, poorly lit as they stood there searching for Kuryakin, taking a moment for their eyes to adjust. Then in the shadows they saw a dark form laying on the ground a few feet away next to the caterer's delivery truck.

"Illuysha!" Elliott called as she jumped down from the platform, slipping as she landed, skinning her knees but she continued towards him, limping to his side, followed by April and Mark.

"Illya!" she screamed, lifting his still body in her arms."Oh God no?"

The front of his white tuxedo shirt was red with blood as Elliott cradled his head to her chest. Then she saw the lump on his head, and the blood was coming from a knife wound in his left hand, the blade still protruding from the middle of it.

Mark disappeared and moments later returned with several towels, wrapping them carefully around Illya's hand once they realized that was the source of the blood on his shirt, and not a wound to the gut.

"An ambulance is on the way." April called to them.

Napoleon's voice came through loud and clear in their earpieces.

"Papa bear is safe and on the move, now is someone going to tell me what the hell is going on with Goldilocks?"

Elliott was the first to speak. "He's hurt, a knife wound in the hand, and he's out cold right now. He was chasing someone through the kitchen, we don't who it was. Ambulance is on the way."

"Have him taken to Mount Sinai, Bella's on duty... she'll take good care of him. I'll be there as soon as Papa bear is secure. Out."

Illya's eyes fluttered open just as he was lifted onto the the gurney, he tried to pull off the oxygen mask to speak,"Nyet, no ambulance, I can go by car." he said trying to sit up.

"Oh no mister," she said shoving him back down to the gurney." No arguments on this one. Ye are going in the ambulance to Mt. Sinai and that's final." Elliott grabbed his uninjured hand, feeling him give her a squeeze. That was his signal that he was surrendering to her wishes without a fight.

Sorry ma'am no passengers in the unit," said the technician. "We'll taking him to Mount Sinai Hospital as requested, if you want follow us there."

"I'm his wife and I'm riding with him." She flashed her gold U.N.C.L.E. ID card; that settling the discussion immediately.

A small crowd had gathered along the loading dock, on-lookers and security personnel, trying to break them up. Among them was the auburn-haired Kiril Andropov who simply smiled when he heard Elliott say that she was Kuryakin's wife.

.

Napoleon arrived at Mount Sinai nearly an hour later to find his partner in surgical recovery. He located Bella easily, getting a quick an update from her; the knife wound to the hand went right through. The orthopedic surgeon said he was lucky as none of the tendons and ligaments had been severed. There was a minor bump on his head too, but nothing serious."

"That's a relief," Napoleon whispered.

"Dear God Napoleon," she said as he hugged her, " his first day back on the job and this happens? I don't understand, wasn't it supposed to be a security detail for Uncle Alex?" she paused for a second, suddenly becoming more concerned. " Uncle Alex is alright isn't he?"

"Baby, he's fine. Safe and sound. I just need for Illya to wake up and tell me what the hell happened." He gave her quick kiss then headed out to the waiting room.

Mark and April were seated together looking quite forlorn; Elliott was nervously pacing back and forth, chewing on the knuckle of her index finger when she looked up, seeing Napoleon coming towards her.

"He'll be alright...looks like a bit of the Solo luck rubbed off on him for once. None of his tendons and ligaments were badly damaged, so his hand will be fine, and nothing but a bump on the head.

"Oh thank God, " she said, hugging herself. "Could I see him?"

"Has he come to?" April asked, not giving Napoleon a chance to answer Elliott's question.

"Not yet, he's still under the effects of the anesthesia." he sighed deeply feeling like it was coming from his feet." We'll have to wait until he comes to in order to get to the bottom of this. Did any of you get a look at what happened?"

They all shook their heads. "I just saw him take off through the kitchen doors." Mark said.

"Witnesses in the kitchen were useless, they couldn't give a description other than that it was two men chasing each other. Though one said he thought they were both yelling in Russian." April added.

"Hmmm?" Napoleon said, perhaps one of the KGB decided break the rules and bother Illya?"

"But Illya was chasing him, not the other way around?" Mark said.

An hour later, Elliott and Napoleon were standing at Illya's bedside. Bella was just leaving after checking the surly patient's vitals. "Don't be long," she warned," and please don't upset him you two?"

"There is no need for them to do that, as I am upset already. When may I please leave here Bella?" He actually asked her politely.

"When the doctor has said so and not before. Now no moving around or you might open up those stitches and start bleeding again."

Illya looked to the empty bottle of blood hanging beside his bed, as well as the bag if IV fluids connected to his arm.

Elliott pulled up a chair, taking hold of his hand. "Ye scared the hell out of me."

"I was not exactly thrilled myself." he said calmly.

"So what happened?" Napoleon asked.

"Funny...I do not remember. The last thing I recall was being put into an ambulance against my will and being taken to the hospital, and you of course being by my side Annushka." He lied to them with a perfect poker face.

"Nothing?" Napoleon asked.

Illya shook his head. "I am sorry, I remember nothing."

"Well apparently you were chasing after someone and the both of you were yelling at each other in Russian."

"Really?" Illya feigned surprise.

"Well Kuryakin." Max Schneider said as he walked into the hospital room. "You didn't waste any time did you?"

"Doing what may I enquire?"

"You're not back to work one day and you end up in a hospital bed."

"Through no fault of my own if Kir..." Illya cut himself short, realizing he had almost slipped.

"If Kir...what Illya?" Elliott asked," You were remembering something."

"Sorry, it is gone, what ever it was."

"Illya I'm going to have you transferred to Medical at headquarters in the morning for observation. Your head injury wasn't severe enough to cause memory loss and your toxicology reports show no drugs in your system. So this amnesia has me a bit concerned." Max said.

"I am sure my memory will return, please Max, not medical...not yet?" the Russian pleaded. "Just assign me to light duty. I can still write." He said waving his right hand.

"You know the staff has had a nice break from the both of you, maybe I can let it go on a little longer, God knows they deserve it after all tantrums and nonsense you've put them through in just the past year alone."

"Again, not all my fault."

"Not playing the blame game here Illya. Tell you what, I'll decide tomorrow. Now everyone out. This man needs his rest." Max said shooing Napoleon and Elliott off.

Elliott leaned forward giving her husband a kiss. " It might be a good idea if we make a phone call to Demmy, he'll be upset that ye are not coming home tonight."

"Me too," Illya smiled, I was looking forward to you wearing that new outfit?"

"Outfit? Oh this!" Elliott laughed, opening up her trench coat, giving him a playful flash of her skimpy uniform.

"Cannot keep a good man down, if you get my drift?" he smiled. "Good night my love. I will have to make do seeing you in my dreams." Once alone his thoughts returned to more of what that ublyudok_bastard Kiril had told him.

Illya quickly changed his train of thought, as April and Mark, both deprived of a visit by Schneider stuck their heads in the door, calling their greetings and encouragement.

"Illya dear, gett well fast," April said, blowing him a kiss. That bringing a smile to the Russian's face. Mark suddenly appeared in her place,"Oi mate, no playing possum what?"

"Mark, I would much rather see April's face than yours any day." Illya called back at him. Then as soon as they were gone, his thoughts returned to darker ones...

He remembered that night in Bykivnia the Nazis found their camp, and there was no way they could have done so without help. Kiril, he remembered like it was yesterday disappeared just when Uncle Vanya was finished telling the story of the legendary Illya Muromets, that was when the Germans came, eventually killing everyone...his father, brother Dimitry, Uncle Vanya, his cousin Anastasiya, Elijah and all the other partisans. *

There were only two of the Rom gypsies that survived, and he, one little lonely boy with only his grandmother and baby sister left to him in the world, and in the end they were taken from him too.

Kiril Andropov was responsible for all their deaths, and Illya now swore revenge against him, even though he knew it could cost him his job, maybe even his life. This was something that he could not let go, not this.

.

ref * "Beginnings"


	4. Chapter 4

Elliott returned home after the Old Man waived writing her portion of the report until the morning. He understood that she had children to be seen to, and the paperwork was simply not pressing enough to detain her.

When she arrived at the house, Olga went down to her basement apartment, then Elliott gave her son the news. He seemed to handle the fact that his father would not be coming home again well enough but it was the telephone call from Illya that seemed to settle him down immediately.

"But why can't you come home papa?"

"I have to work very late, but I promise I will see you soon. So you are going to be a big boy and take care of your sister, da? Will you be a helper to your mama?"

"Yes papa I will. I miss you."

"Demyachka, I will always miss you too when I am away from home. Now be a good boy for papa? May I speak with mama please?"

There was the sound of the telephone the receiver being laid down, then Illya could hear Demya call to his mother.

"Illuysha, are ye feeling okay?"

"Nothing that pain medication is not taking care of."

"_Ye_ are taking pain meds?" Elliott was surprised upon hearing that, knowing her Russian's aversion to takin any sort of drugs.

"Bella knows all my tricks as they are Napoleon's as well, so it is impossible to avoid the medication as she has given it to me via injection instead of tablets." He yawned.

"Ah tis' trying times when yer nurse is married to a fellow agent," she laughed." Sleep well my love and dream of me? I'll see ye tomorrow.

"Mmm huh. Good night Anya." he said to her then hung up the phone.

It had been a long night, and finally around 1 a.m. she was ready to get to bed. She looked at herself in the floor-length mirror in the bedroom, examining her skinned knees.

Illya seemed to find her waitress costume rather alluring, but when seeing the condition of her legs; she didn't think she looked that exciting. She peeled off the clothing, letting it drop to the floor, chuckling to herself that some of Illya's habits had finally rubbed off on her.

"Who cares," she thought, "I'll pick it up in the morning and bring it with me ta Del Florias ta be cleaned."

The children were sound asleep, so she threw on her nightgown and crawled into bed, automatically tucking her weapon under the pillow.

Just as she relaxed,starting to doze off when the princess phone on the nightstand suddenly rang.

"Hallo?" she said sleepily.

"Did I wake you?"

"Illya? Are you alright?"

"Fine, I just wanted to call you to say...well to let you know that I love you."

She felt a little strange for some reason. "Are you sure ye are alright?It's not like ye won't see me tomorrow?"

"I know, " he spoke sotto vocce, "be careful," he spoke drowsily," good night, love you."

"Love you too, Illuysha...night."

With that the phone line went click, then she hung up the receiver. That seemed very odd to her, not that she didn't mind having her husband call her out of the blue to tell her he loved her, but something didn't feel quite right.

She closed the light, reaching under her pillow feeling the cold but comforting gunmetal of her UNCLE Special, then settled in hoping that Lourdes would sleep through the night. Illya had taken it upon himself to see to her when she woke up. Elliott said he was spoiling her, but his only answer when she protested was that; "she deserved it and he had not done enough for her."

She drifted off to sleep, dreaming of her man with a smile on her face.

Elliott sat up instantly when she heard the unfamiliar noise, grabbing her gun instinctively. That's when she smelled it...smoke.

"Fire?" She jumped out of bed, heading straight to the children's rooms, grabbing them in her arms as she ran down the stairs with her Walther still grasped tight in her hand. The hallway was beginning to fill with smoke as she saw flames licking up the wall in Illya's study, the curtains catching fire.

"Sweet Jay-sus?"

The front door...was open? She ran outside putting the baby into her brother's arms telling him to hold her tight and to stay put, looking around quickly for anyone nearby. There was no one, only she and Illya's cars parked in front of the house. Elliott ran back inside, grabbing the fire extinguisher that Illya had put in the kitchen.

She had the fire out within minutes, then ran back out retrieving Demmy and his sister. She took the crying baby from him, rocking Lala to quiet her tears. Elliott was shaking as the rush of adrenaline was beginning to cause her to crash.

"Mama what happened?" Demmy asked, pulling on her nightgown." How did papa's study catch fire?" At first he was surprisingly calm considering what had just happened, then the tears began to flow when the reality of the danger hit him. She reached down, pulling him to her.

"I don't know Demmy...mama doesn't know. But it's alright, we're safe, don't cry my darling boy?" She took the children back upstairs putting them both in her bed, locking the door telling her son to stay put and guard his sister.

She opened her communicator, contacting headquarters, and a security team arriving within minutes; investigating the fire and checking the alarm system for signs of tampering. Their findings were that the alarm had indeed been bypassed and the fire set deliberately.

"Who the hell would want to do that and why?" Elliott said out loud.

"Her assistant, Pat Krupinski, the agent in charge in-charge only shrugged. "Sorry Miss Mc Gowan there were no fingerprints, so no clue as to the culprit was, but who ever it was knew their way around an alarm system as the one Mr. Kuryakin had set up was pretty sophisticated."

Her communicator chirped.

"Ellie, are you and the kids alright?" Napoleon asked " I was just notified by security.

"Fine, though Illya's library didn't fare too well. Napoleon this was deliberate. Some one broke into the house and set the fire."

"I know. Look, pack a bag, bring some toys because you and the kids are coming to headquarters."

"But..."

"No buts. When you get here, I need you to look at the security tapes from the reception at the U.N. The team will escort you, and we'll leave an agent to keep an eye on the house. Oh, and better bring Olga too."

A half hour later Elliott arrived with the children, then after settling them in guest quarters with the help of Olga she headed off to meet with Napoleon in his conference room.

"Kids okay?" he asked when she walked into the office.

"Asleep now, Demmy was pretty upset. Olga's with them."

He flicked a switch, turning on the video screen on the back wall.

"Elliott, I think Illya's lying to us about not remembering what happened."

The image on the screen showed Illya standing to one side away from the crowd, then an auburn haired man stepped up behind him, saying something.

"That's Kiril Andropov," she said.

"Correct." They watchd as Illya turned down the volume on his transmitter, seeing there was a conversation between the two men. Then Illya's expression changed, he seemed to become upset. Andropov took off, and Illya went after him.

"I'm trying to find someone who reads lips to find out what was said, obviously something pissed him off enough to make him go after Andropov, especially after Waverly's warning to stand down with the KGB?"

Napoleon flicked a second switch, then a second video appeared on screen. This time it was at the loading dock. It was poorly let but they could make out the dark images of Illya and Andropov diving at each other. It was a brawl with fists flying, no finesse, no martial arts. At one point Illya had his hands around Andropov's throat trying to strangle him.

That's when Andropov pulled the knife from the back of his coat, slicing it into Illya's hand. Then as Illya staggered back, Andropov clasped his hands together, slamming them into Illya's head with a mighty blow, obviously knocking him out as he fell to the ground.

Andropov stood over him, looking like he was laughing, then disappeared into the shadows out of the view of the camera.

"Wow?" Elliott said.

"Kiril Andropov, that name ring a bell to you? I mean before being briefed on the KGB team for the reception." He asked.

"I recall hearing it once or twice. Didn't Illya have a run in with him a few years ago...remember when the two of ye got the mumps?" *

"That's what I recalled, but there was something else...it's vague, but I'm remembering Illya mumbling the name, it was after he colored his hair auburn for the Mind Control Affair."

"I remember that...he was upset about looking like the man. Come to think of it, there is something awfully familiar about the man."

"So they both have classic Russian features. Andropov has auburn hair and brown eyes, a goatee." Napoleon said, still perplexed by the whole situation. 'It's obvious there's a connection between the two of them. Well I guess we'll have to have a good talk with that husband of yours in the morning and get some straight answers from him.

"Right now the breach of security at your house and Illya's altercation with Andropov are just too coincidental to make me comfortable. I think it's best you keep the kids here for now until we figure out what's going on."

"The Soviet Embassy was contacted and apparently Andropov has gone missing. They've seen the security tapes too and are just about making accusations that Illya has done something to their agent. Needless to say, Waverly is not happy with this mess."

"Neither am I. Alright, we'll stay here for, now if ye don't mind, I'm exhausted and am going ta bed. Ye look like ye could use some rest too, or are ye in training to be like Waverly, here 24/7 with no sleep?"

"Trust me, not ready for that yet. I'm going home to my family. I'll meet you at the hospital around ten?"

"Sounds like a plan, " Elliott called to him as she disappeared out the door.

.

The next morning, Illya was up and out of bed, having dressed himself in a pair of hospital scrubs that he conveniently nicked from a laundry bin.

Then he grabbed a white lab coat, throwing that on, hiding his injured hand in the pocket. The only thing that made him stand out were his shoes...black leather dress shoes were not exactly the uniform of the day in a hospital. But he had to take his chances and hope no one would notice.

He made it past the nurse's station almost to the elevator, when he heard her voice behind him.

"And where the _hell_ to you think you're going mister?" Bella barked at him.

Illya hunched his shoulders, knowing his attempt at escape had been instantly thwarted.

"Should I raise my hands above my head now?" he quipped.

"Very funny, now march. Back to your room and into bed." Bella let out a big sigh. "You U.N.C.L.E. agents, never quit do you?" Then she smiled, thinking of her Napoleon.

"Speak of the devil." she laughed as her husband walked into Illya's hospital room. " I was just thinking about you."

"Mmm good thoughts I hope?" He said, giving her a little kiss.

"Only if you finish what you started this morning." she whispered.

"Sorry, I was tired. It doesn't happen that often." He tried defending himself, a little embarrassed that he's fallen asleep on her.

"Lucky for you."

"So how is our patient this morning?"

"There is nothing wrong with my hearing," Illya said, " I would say get a room, but …"

"Alright, alright."Napoleon laughed, recalling making the same statement to he and Elliott the other day.

"And this patient is fine and wants out of here."

"Not until Dr. Schneider has you released." Bella said, "By the way, Napoleon I caught him trying to skip town this morning."

"You tried leaving before you were cleared by Max?"

"Cannot blame an agent for trying." Illya said smiled.

"So how's your memory this morning chum, recall any details?"

"No sorry, still drawing a blank." Illya face remained passive.

Elliott walked in the door accompanied by Max Schneider. "Alright Kuryakin, you're sprung from here. You're to go straight to headquarters

as you've been assigned to light duty and nothing else, understood?"

"Da"

"Excuse me, I do not speak Russian."

"Yes, Max."

Elliott helped her husband dress into the change of clothing she brought for him, then together with Napoleon they headed back to headquarters.

The ride was quiet, no discussion. Nothing was said about the break-in and fire at the Kuryakin house, nor the fact that the children were at headquarters.

Once they arrived they headed directly to Waverly's conference room.

"Ah yes, welcome back Mr. Kuryakin, glad to hear that you were not seriously injured, now please all of you be seated."

"We have some rather disturbing things to discuss with you, firstly there was a break-in and fire set in your home last night...rest assured your children are fine and are here in guest quarters."

Illya looked at his wife in dismay, taken completely off guard. "Why did you not tell me?" His face drained of all it's color as his usual placid demeanor changed to one filled with concern.

"Because I asked her to Mr. Kuryakin." Waverly said as he hit a switch on his control console. "This is the security video from the reception last night."

Illya's knuckles on his good hand went white, gripping the edge of the conference table as he bowed his head upon seeing he and Kiril on the tape."

"I see by your reaction that you are not surprised,"Waverly said, "so are you going to tell us what transpired between you and Mr. Andropov, or do you still have a case of amnesia regarding this incident?"

"No."

"No as you claim you don't remember or no as you will not discuss it."

"I do not wish to discuss it."

"Mr. Kuryakin, I order you to tell us what happened, otherwise I will have a lip reader brought in to translate word for word what was said. I remind you that you were to have no contact with any member of the Soviet delegation, nor they with you. So young man are you going to tell me what happened?"

Illya hesitated, drawing in a long breath before he began.

"Kiril Andropov was responsible for the death of my father, older brother as well as my uncle and cousin when we were children. I was unaware of this until he informed me of his complicity last night."

Napoleon was confused by that statement. "How can that be, you seem to be nearly the same age? So he as a child was responsible? I thought your family was killed by the Nazis?"

"He was in the partisan camp with us in Bykivnia forest, and was the one who informed the Nazis of our secret winter location."

"And what exactly made him tell you this now?" Napoleon asked.

"Kiril and I rediscovered each other at University and I viewed him as the last living member of my grandmother's gypsy tribe. I tried to help him with his schooling, he followed me into the GRU, but was rejected and instead the joined KGB. He has held a long standing resentment towards me."

"So he saw this reception as an opportunity to antagonize you? Why now? Why did he wait to tell you what he did?"

"I do not know."

"Mr. Kuryakin, you are leaving out a very important bit of information aren't you?" Waverly said.

Illya looked upset again, shaking his head no.

"There is something quite pertinent to Mr. Kuryakin's relationship to Mr. Andropov, and I emphasize relationship." Waverly added.

Illya still said nothing.

"I'm sorry Mr. Kuryakin, but I must reveal this." Waverly flipped another switch on the console showing photographs of Kiril and Illya side by side.

"You see, Mr. Andropov is Mr. Kuryakin's brother."

Napoleon and Elliott stared at the images side by side, finally seeing the family resemblance. It was actually an uncanny. It made sense now, as Elliott knew that the father had that color hair, and Illya had the coloring of his mother.

She was taken back by that news. "Illuysha, you said all your family members were all dead?"

"They are, he is not family and is a half-brother. Kiril is the unfortunate result of drunken night's indiscretion on the part of my father. His mother told me before she died that Kiril Nickovich Andropov and I shared the same father. My brother Dimitry I think knew, but never told me; he only warned me to stay away from Kiril."

"He was resentful of the fact that my father refused to acknowledge him as his son. He grew up with nothing but hatred for me in his heart, and tricked me into trusting him. At first I thought it important to help the only living relative that I had, but Kiril's resentment against me grew, as I excelled and he did not."

"Illya why now, why bring this up to you, other that to piss...excuse me, anger you?"

"Napoleon I do not know."

"Hey, we are forgetting the break-in and fire at out house, perhaps Kiril was responsible for that as well...some sort of vendetta?" Elliott said. "Illya, how many opportunities has he had to come into contact with you all these years?"

"Only one, during the Solo Affair, and I left him in a rather embarrassing position as I recall." Illya said.

"He's had a long time for his resentment to build. It seems to me he was goading you Illya." Napoleon said.

"Well regardless of his motives, " Waverly interrupted, "we still have a problem because of this situation. Mr. Andropov is apparently missing and the Soviet delegation is now claiming that since you chased him Mr. Kuryakin; that you are some how responsible for his disappearance."

"Andropov left him wounded in the loading dock, how does that make Illya responsible for him going missing?" Elliott asked.

"Point well taken, but the Soviets are choosing to ignore that fact. It seems that Andropov is attempting to set you up Mr. Kuryakin. We know the KGB in general has had it out for you over the years, but this may be an attempt to make the proverbial straw to break the camels back."

"Perhaps Andropov and the KGB are in collusion on this, perhaps not. Either way, your life is in great peril, and unfortunately the lives of your family as well."

Illya let out a barely audible moan.

.

* ref "The Solo Affair"


	5. Chapter 5

Waverly lowered his pipe to the crystal ashtray. He'd stopped puffing on it long before his agents had entered his office, but the distinct odor of his special blend _Isle of Dogs no. 22_ had permeated the room and it positively reeked of the smell even when the pipe wasn't lit.

Illya still found the stench from it irritating to his sinuses even after all these years. If the Old Man was actively smoking, the smouldering pipe tobacco made him nauseous and would sometimes send the him into a fit of sneezing.

Max offered to give him something for the allergic reaction, but as always Illya refused medication. It was just his way.

"Needless to say,"Waverly said, "reassurances have been sent to the Soviets that you Mr. Kuryakin and our organization have had nothing what so ever to do with the disappearance of Mr. Andropov, and we have questioned the possibility that he has gone rogue. We need to remove any suspicions from U.N.C.L.E. as quickly as possible."

"Unfortunately the surveillance videos of you and Mr. Andropov are quite damning, so at this juncture I have no choice but to have you and your children remain confined here to headquarters for...safe keeping shall we say, until such time that we can ascertain the where abouts of Andropov and prove your innocence."

Illya gave no arguments there when it came to the safety of his children; he would not take chances with them, especially after the fire at his home. His instincts told him it was Kiril who some how found out he had a family, and where they lived. And if Andropov was indeed on his own vendetta it would not be safe to go home, not until the man had been found and subdued. Waverly was apparently of a like mind on this.

The Kuryakins left together to join their children upstairs while Napoleon remained behind at the conference table with Waverly. He tapped his fingers lost in thought for a few moments.

"You have something else on your mind in regards to this matter Mr. Solo?" Waverly lit a match, holding it to the bowl of his pipe, puffing on it until his head was encircled in a cloud of smoke.

"Sir, why is it I'm having a funny feeling that the so-called Thrush threat was just a ruse?" He stood up from his seat, walking over to the large world globe in the corner of the room, spinning it until the map of the U.S.S.R. came into view.

"You're thinking that the Soviets are up to something?"

"Not sure sir, though the KGB could be up to their usual nonsense with Mr. Kuryakin or it could be just Andropov, though my gut is telling me to lean towards the latter. It seems to me since the number one section one of U.N.C.L.E. was there at the U.N. to circumvent possible Thrush interference with the new member nations, that it would be expected to have your best people there to cover your back. Andropov would know that, and this would have presented him with a rare opportunity to get a little revenge against Illy...Mr. Kuryakin. It all makes sense, given the revealing details of of Mr. Kuryakin and Mr. Andropov's past antagonisms.

"Indeed quite possible, but the KGB would have known it as well and we can't dismiss their possible complicity in this. The fact that their agent has disappeared however, makes me agree with you that it is Mr. Kuryakin's brother who is at the heart of this Mr. Solo. So our first task, or rather I should say your task is to locate Andropov. If the Soviets find him, he will be their mess to deal with, but we cannot rely on them to do so. Once we find Kiril Andropov then Mr. Kuryakin can be cleared of all culpability and he and his family will be safe." Now dismissed."

.

"So when were ye ever going to tell me about yer brother?" Elliott said as they rode in the elevator up to the guest quarters level.

"You know there are some secrets that will never be shared between us, this was supposed to be one of them. Do _not_ ask me again," Illya spoke sharply, obviously still upset.

"Don't get _snotty_ with me." she said crossing her arms in front of her, taking her _I'm tougher than you_ pose. "He's still yer brother?"

"Elliott please stop saying that, he was never a brother to me, nor will he ever be. Kiril is a bitter insecure man who blames me for his failures in life simply because we had the same father."

"So was Dimitry the only one who knew besides your father? What about yer mother or grandmother?"

"Nyet. My mother was not a strong woman, and I think my father's foolishness would have broken her heart and killed her. I suspect my babushka and Uncle Vanya knew as Kiril and his mother lived in the Rom camp."

"Illya ye've always spoken about yer father with such pride and yet ye knew what he'd done. It must have been a blow to ye, when ye found out. How..."

"Did it happen? " he finished her sentence.""There had been a celebration of a birth in the gypsy camp, my father drank too much and Kiril's mother seduced him...at least that is what I was told, though that did not ease the pain of learning of one's father's sins. There is a saying...it takes two to tango?"

"Illya your father was a still a good man wasn't he?"

"Moy otits bylbol'shim i smelym chelovekom_my father was a great and brave man," he said proudly.

"I'm sure he was Illuysha, but even the best of us make mistakes? The circumstances of yer brother's birth wasn't his fault, couldn't ye try to make peace with him?"

"Annushka, when we were at the University of Georgia, Kiril presented himself to me as my brother; his mother verified the truth of it on her death bed. It came as a shock, and hurt knowing that my father was not the perfect man that I thought he was. And even though Kiril was the result of my father's mistake, I decided I would help him as you said, it was no fault of his own."

"I tried to take him under my wing and at first he seemed happy, but then he began to harbor a growing resentment towards me. For some reason he was angry that he did not have the Kuryakin name. As I excelled and he did not; he became more hateful towards me."

"He was not the best of students and felt that I was misleading him in his studies in order to make him fail. He was the instrument of his own failures, not I, but he blamed me for everything that went wrong in his life."

"He even tried following me into GRU though he failed at that as well, then he managed to join KGB. There apparently he has flourished as one of their most ruthless operatives and assassins. But I think it has been his hatred of me that has driven him all these years."

"My presence at the reception gave him an opportunity at revenge, and he knew exactly what buttons to push for me to give chase after him. Elliott...Kiril is not a brother with whom one can reconcile with. It is bad enough he tried to lure me into his little game, but now I am convinced that he has gone after my family as well...again."

"He was responsible for my the deaths of my father, brother, uncle and cousin and now he has tried to kill my own family. For this he cannot be allowed to live, as he will be a constant threat to us all now that he as revealed his intentions and his betrayals. He cannot be trusted."

"_Ye_ are not going after him. I won't have it, do ye hear? Ye have a family ta take care of, let UN.C.L.E. deal with him please, not ye?

He pulled her into his arms, planting a kiss on her lips as the elevator doors opened, avoiding giving her an answer.

Elliott huffed, knowing what he was up to."Come on, ye have babies waiting to see ye." she said, pulling him by the arm after her.

"Papa!' Demya called as his parents stepped though the door. He ran as his father as he crouched to receive the him, though Illya raised his injured hand so it wouldn't be hit.

"Papa I was scared that you didn't come home and we had a fire in your library...I didn't do it. And Mama took Lala outside and I held her all by myself while Mama put out the fire, and then she had me guard Lala in your..."

"Demyachka slow down, " Illya laughed.

"Olga, have my babies been behaving themselves?" Elliott asked.

"Always, my little angels are the best. I'll leave you alone for a bit...I think I'll stop down for a visit with my friend Alex, it's been a long time since I've seen that old fox."

Illya released his son from his hug, being careful with his injured hand.

"Papa, what happened, why are you wearing a bandage?"

"Umm, because I cut myself making breakfast this morning, it is nothing." he lied. " So you were a brave boy helping Mama with your sister then enh?"

Demya looked at the heavy bandaging on his father's hand with suspicion. "Yes Papa I helped, now when may we go home? No one is there to take care of Boris. She must be very hungry by now."

"Not to worry Demmy, do ye remember Agent Krupinski? Well, he is at our house and is taking care of the cat." Elliott answered his concern.

Illya walked over to the portable cradle beside the bed, looking down at his daughter as she slept peacefully.

"She is alright? She was not near the flames was she?" All he could envision in his head were the images of the family dacha going up in flames with his baby sister Katiya trapped in the attic.

Elliott could see the look of fear in his eyes, knowing what had happened to his sister.

"Illuysha she was _never_ near the fire, she's fine."

He reached out grabbing Elliott, pulling her to him, then buried his face in shoulder. She realized he had let out a soft sob. "It's alright my love, she's fine, we're fine."

He lifted his face, wiping his few tears with the sleeve of his jacket.

"That svoloch'_bastard tried to burn my family to death," he whispered, shaking off the fear, letting anger take it's place. "I will keep my promise Elliott, Kiril will pay for what he has done to my family."

"Now who's the one with the vendetta?" she snapped.

She turned away from him, not expecting an answer." Come Demmy, Mama will take ye for some ice cream. "Illya, ye stay with yer daughter, please?" Elliott took their son by the hand, walking out the door with him.

Illya sat on the edge of the bed staring down at Lourdes when she suddenly stirred, letting out a tiny whimper. He scooped her up into his arms, holding her close to him, brushing her red hair gently with his hand.

"Shush moya slatkaya devochka_shush my little daughter. Papa will not let anyone harm you... this will not happen again."

Lourdes Mary started to cry in earnest. "Nyet, pazhaluista, nyet nyet, shush shush_no, please no no shush, shush. Ne plakat_do not cry?"

He rocked her, holding her close to his chest but this time he cried along with his tiny daughter. But they were not the tears of a father, but those of an eight year old brother who had lost his little red-haired sister to such a terrible death.

.

Napoleon left Waverly, heading straight to the office that he once shared with his partner. Since their brief falling out; they decided it was still best they have separate offices now. And it was becoming apparent that it was necessary after all, as his increasing duties as CEA were requiring more space, and privacy to deal with other agents.

Little by little Waverly was laying more responsibilities on his shoulders, making him wonder if the Old Man had something up his sleeve. Illya was being brought in on more briefings, being made familiar with the duties of a CEA, as it was expected he would take over the position some day.

Napoleon flopped down into his chair, suddenly feeling a bit lonely without Illya sitting there at his desk. But he knew his partner had to be kept out it. This was going to be a tough one. "Where to begin?" he said out loud.

"Where would he find a trained KGB agent who probably didn't want to be found? Was the man risking his position with the Soviet Directorate by going after Kuryakin...or was he ordered to? Brother...the man was Illya's brother?" That was a real fly in the ointment."

Yet there was still that possibility, as the KBG had branded Illya a traitor and had tried to repatriate him several times over the years, that it was a ploy on their part.

Though the order by Malik could have been legitimate; the KGB was also notorious for doing their own thing as they'd been locking horns for seniority and control with the GRU for years. If there ever was a confusing thing, it was Soviet Intelligence. Even having a score card didn't help with them.

Napoleon leaned his head into his hands letting out a long tired sigh.

"Would Andropov suddenly surface a hero if he managed to eliminate his brother?" This was one big mess, and Napoleon just wasn't quite sure where to begin.

"Where would a Russian disappear? It would have to be a place that would allow him freedom of mobility, a place he could operate and still maintain his invisibility but allow him to remain within striking distance?" Napoleon asked himself, then snapped his fingers, as he came up with an answer.

Only one place, _Little Russia_ in the Brighton Beach section of Brooklyn. It was the largest Russian community outside of the Soviet Union. Most of the people there or their families had fled the oppression of the Communists. That would be the perfect place for him to blend in, and hopefully he wouldn't find too much protection there, he was after all KGB, the one thing the residents of Brighton Beach hated and feared.

He picked up the telephone receiver. "Yes Mr. Solo?" answered a woman's voice. "Yes Ginger, could you page Miss Mc Gowan and ask her to meet me in my office in fifteen minutes?"

"She's in the commissary with her son."

"Oh okay, make it a half hour then, thanks."

"You're welcome sir. "

Ginger Kaplouchky was polite and efficient in her new role as his secretary not to mention attractive but he missed their old secretary Janet Traynor, who like so many others had gone off and gotten married. Last he'd heard about her was that she was expecting her first child. Janet knew his habits, and anticipated a lot of things for both he and Illya. But then he supposed that Ginger would eventually get used to their ways and fall into step.

A half hour later Elliott walked into Napoleon's office right on time. "What can I do for ye?" she asked.

"Ellie, I need a little language help with translating Russian?"

" Why, ye speak it don't ye?"

"I do but at a very basic level. I need some help canvassing for Andropov in Brighton Beach, the Old Man has set me with the task of finding him."

"I'm game,"she smiled, "anything to get the bastard who tried to hurt my babies...but don't let Illya know. Napoleon, I have to warn ye, Illya has sworn to kill Andropov, not a good thing."

"Well we'll just have to get him out of the way won't we?"

"How's that?"

"We can't exactly keep Demmy confined to guest quarters, or the baby for that matter. Children need fresh air, and so does their cranky Russian father. How about we have them sent to one of our safe houses upstate? That way they're out of harms way, and Illya's far enough away from the action to stay out of trouble.

Elliott sat on the edge of the desk, looking very seriously at Napoleon. "And just how are ye going to reason with him that I have ta stay here? He won't be happy with me not going with them."

"You're needed here, you are after all the Chief of section III. So he'll just have to get over it then won't he?" Napoleon smiled.


	6. Chapter 6

Elliott avoided discussing Napoleon's plan that night when she went to bed with her husband. She could sense the tension in him already, if she slipped up it would only upset him further.

It was bad enough that he had been confined to headquarters, but the idea of farming him out and not letting him have a chance at getting Andropov would make him go ballistic, better he didn't find that out until the last minute.

Illya had an appointment to meet with Dr. Mansur in the morning to discuss their son's progress, so that would keep him occupied for a bit. She wanted to go with him, but Illya asked to speak to the doctor alone. Perhaps there was something of a personal nature that he wanted to discuss as he seemed to have developed a fair amount of respect for the psychiatrist. Knowing it was a rare situation she backed off, giving her husband his privacy.

She looked over at Demya sleeping quietly on the cot that had been set up beside their bed with a special vinyl mattress cover in case he had another bed wetting episode as he had the night before, that having been brought on by a nightmare.

He was still dreaming of the bad man coming to get him and had recurrent images of Owen Smythe reaching in trying to grab him from where he had been hiding under the stairs. Waking up in a strange place screaming for his father made it worse, and papa not being present added the child's fears.

When Illya had been released from the hospital and debriefed he finally came up to guest quarters and had a father-son talk with Demya, reassuring him that he was safe and that his papa was not leaving him. The frightened child clung to his father's neck as he was picked up; Illya walking around the room with him in his arms, rocking and rubbing his Demyachk on his back, trying to banish the memory of the maniac that held him captive for so many weeks.*

He was crying as his father held him close. "Shush moy syn, Papa is here and you are safe. Do not cry?" Illya started quietly singing the lullaby he had recently taught to him.

"Lyuli Lyuli Lyulenki... Demyachka, sing it with me, we will help Mama and Lala fall to sleep da?

The child rubbed his eyes with his fists as he sniffled his tears away.

"Come on?" Illya continued to coax the boy, "Lyuli Lyuli Lyulenki...gde ty gde ty..."

"Lala? Papa I love my little sister."

"I know you do. I had a baby sister once, but I was not able to protect her like you are protecting yours. You really are a very brave big brother."

"Da, ya budyu hrabrym dlya moyei sestry_yes, I will be brave for my sister," the child vowed.

Demya began to sing softly with his father."leta' nakrovat' machinayut

vorkovat'..." before the song was finished he laid his head on his father's shoulder and within minutes was asleep.

"Lyuli Lyuli Lyulenki..." Illya whispered the final words as he lowered his son down to his bed, tucking the blanket around him then kissing him on the forehead.

"Mechta sladko syn moy, ne koshmary segodnya vecherom_dream sweetly my son, no nightmares tonight."

Illya slipped into bed beside Elliott, wrapping his arm around her has he contoured his body to hers.

"Ye are a good Papa, ye know that Illya 'll sleep better knowing ye're here." she whispered.

"I hope so." There was a dual meaning to that response, but Elliott decided not to say anything as her husband kissed her on the cheek as he closed his eyes, seemingly asleep in an instant.

"How can ye do that?." Elliott mumbled.

"I heard that." he whispered.

"And here all these years I thought ye were falling asleep like that," she snapped her fingers." ye bugger ye."

"Sometimes I do, and sometimes I do not...Mmmm." He then proceeded to nibble on her neck.

Elliott giggled a little. "Not a good idea, Demmy is in too close proximity, don't ye think?"

"Can I just not caress my wife without it leading to something? You really do smell good you know, very edible...like strawberries? Wearing something new?"

"Oh stop! Food and sex, is that all ye ever think about?"

"Only with you my scented dove."

"Well if ye want to know, yer daughter received a gift from Waverly, a red-headed Pebbles Flintstone doll, and it was strawberry scented. I thought it rather touching."

"Ah another red-head in the family, taking after gorgeous Mama no doubt?"

"Flattery will get you everywhere Kuryakin, nibble away," she whispered interlocking her fingers with Illya's.

He knew that sex was indeed out of the question at the moment. "Lyuli Lyuli Lyulenki " he whispered to her then closed his eyes again.

Elliott smiled as she closed her eyes after looking over at her son then at her husband; snuggling closer to Illya, finally drifting off to sleep as the two of them lay wrapped in each other's arms.

.

The next morning the Kuryakins had breakfast with their children, then left them in the loving care of Olga Orloff. She was the closest thing to a babushka that they had, but like a grandmother, she intended to spoil her angels, in spite of what their parents asked of her. Demya seemed alright with that, knowing that his mother and father were still in the building. But his father reminded him of his promise to be brave, and reaffirmed that promise to Illya.

"I will not forget to be brave Papa."

"Good, we will not be far away, now please behave for Auntie Olga."

"Well maybe I will only play a few tricks on her today?" Demya smiled slyly.

"Yes please moy syn, only a few." Illya laughed.

Illya headed off alone to Dr. Mansur in medical, Elliott was supposedly going to her own office, when in fact she was meeting with Napoleon.

.

Illya rapped softly on the psychiatrist's door, hearing his name called to enter as he was exactly on time for his appointment.

"How are you?" Dr. Mansur smiled.

"Is that a loaded question?"

Mansur laughed. "Do you want it to be?" he retorted.

That gave both men a chuckle. Illya had improved in his attitude towards psychiatry, actually with only with this particular psychiatrist and not with the field in general.

"So how is your son doing?"

"Still wetting the bed, and the nightmare has returned. Though he has become less clingy and handled his mother and I returning to work with a minimum of fuss."

"The return of the bad dream is understandable as Demya is facing new stresses; a new baby in the house causing you to not give him your undivided attention, the absence of his parents due to their returning to work and of course your most recent incident, causing you to be unexpectedly away from home for the night...how is the hand by the way?"

"Numb for the moment. I have decided to cooperate and take the pain killers as Max prescribed."

"Now that's a major behavioral change for you, very good."

"Not permanent," Illya smiled with a wave of his hand, "it is only because I am out of the field temporarily and confined to headquarters along with my family.

"Oh, this is something I hadn't been informed of. Why so?"

"To make a long story short," Illya said calmly," we are presupposing that the man that did this to my hand, also made an attempt to burn down my home with my family in it two days ago."

"What? I wasn't told this! No one was hurt were they? The baby...?

"Everyone was unharmed. Elliott was able to get the children out safely and extinguish the fire."

"How did Demya react?"

"He was very animated when telling me and quite excited about being needed to be his sister's protector during the whole incident. Though Elliott said he was crying and shaken up for a bit after the fact."

"A normal reaction," Mansur said," I would be prepared for a few set backs with him. Home was his safe haven but now it's been violated and he's been taken out of it for a frightening reason. Again, you not being there has also added to his stress level. Children that have suffered emotional trauma need frequent reassurances, stability and a sense of calm in their lives but unfortunately because of the circumstances, a stable environment will be a difficult thing to provide him right with now."

"This I get," Illya acknowledged. "At least he does know that he is loved very much by both of us, and we handle his accidents calmly without repercussion. We have given him the task of watching over his baby sister, being her guardian so to speak and that seems to get his mind off his fear. I think that responsibility helped him remain calm during the fire." Illya shrugged, looking at Mansur, as if asking if what they were doing was enough.

"Good, that's very good. Illya at this point you and Elliott have been handling it all the right way from what I can see. This current problem may or may not re-traumatize him, only time will tell. So just keep doing what you're doing. I'm afraid that's all I can advise at this point. Keep in mind that children are surprisingly resilient."

"Alright, it is at least comforting that we are following an acceptable course of action."

"Illya, you and Elliott are good and loving parents, considering what you both do for a living; your son is developing into quite a remarkable child. He has a great personality, and needless to say is bright beyond his years. With your presence, he'll feel more secure...just trust your instincts with him okay? I'll advise Alex of your son's progress and..."

"Please, that will not be necessary, my family life need not be an open book for U.N.C.L.E. at the moment. It is bad enough that my children are being confined to guest quarters."

"I'll try, but you know Waverly has a way of knowing these things whether I report them to him or not," Mansur smiled.

"Yes, he does seem to make a habit of that, does he not?"

Dr. Mansur stood, offering his hand to Illya."Remember, my door is always open for you, and Elliott too. You've both been through more than your share this past year, so if you ever feel like unburdening yourselves of any excess baggage..."

"Yes I know and appreciate the offer, "Illya said shaking the doctor's hand in response.

Mansur made some notes in his file after Illya left, thinking on the visit that Solo had paid him earlier in the morning. Though it was a matter of convenience and safety to move Kuryakin and his children to a safe house as Napoleon had suggested; it also seemed like a better for the well-being of Demya.

Though another change of environment away from home could upset the boy further, at least being in a safe one where the child could go outside to play and get some fresh air would probably do more good than harm.

The presence of his father, sister and Olga would offer Demya the reassurances he needed and some sense of continuity and stability, but with his mother being absent...he wasn't quite sure if that would be the one thing that might upset the apple cart. Napoleon's reasons for needing Elliott's help were reasonable enough, and hopefully the situation would be resolved quickly, allowing the family to reunite and continue to rebuild Demya's confidence.

Mansur thought for a moment how life was being so unfair to this family, trauma after trauma and yet Illya and Elliott managed to transcend it all and become stronger, with little help from him. Now with what their son had been through and was still going through was another challenge for them. If he wasn't sworn to secrecy by U.N.C.L.E. they'd make an amazing case study that he could eventually have published. The triumph of the human spirit to overcome adversity was not a new topic, but surely the way this couple managed it was surely worthy of publication.

"Oh well, that's not going to happen," Mansur smiled as he locked Illya's file in his desk drawer. He scratched his head knowing this was a tough situation, one that he never thought he would have to deal with as the head of the psychiatric department at one of the largest intelligence and enforcement agencies in the world.

.

Napoleon sat at his conference table with a map of Brighton Beach spread out in front of him. He shook his head knowing that it was a lot of territory to cover, though the residential sections were the ones he felt least likely to be the places to search for Andropov.

The man was KGB and the local residents consisted of quite a few people who had fled the Soviet Union to escape that extreme control over their lives, or had family members who were fleeing the terror tactics of the KGB.

It made sense that he might hide in the seedier part of town, as there he could find compatriots among the mob who probably helped set the fire at Illya's house. A couple of unsavory characters identified by Security as low level members of the Russian mob had already been spotted across the street from Del Floria's as well as the Mask Club, no doubt Andropov's eyes and ears, waiting for Illya Kuryakin to emerge from UN.C.L.E headquarters.

Napoleon figured that they'd have to get Illya and the kids out in a van, one that was disguised as a commercial vehicle, those that they used for the building cleaning service would probably do, as they were coming and going on a regular basis, and wouldn't look suspicious or out of place to an unwanted observer.

"Top of the mornin' ." Elliott joked as she walked into Solo's office, " I see ye've been busy?"

"Hi Ellie, I paid a little visit with Bob Mansur this morning and he's going to recommend to Waverly that Illya and the children go up to that safe house as you and I discussed...he actually thought it a good idea for your son, saying the homelike environment and being able to get outside to play in the fresh air would do him good. The only thing he's concerned with is you not being there..."

"Well hopefully it won't be for long. I want ta find Andropov fast; Illya is getting caught up in his own thoughts of a vendetta and that's not good. The sooner we wrap this up, the better off he'll be. Once Andropov is caught, debriefed and turned over ta the Soviets or the CIA, the happier I'll be. Though I know Illya won't, but he'll get over it won't he now?"

What Elliott said and how she really felt were two different things, she was taking a hard-nosed approach in front of Napoleon, but deep down inside she was not happy about deceiving Illya or not being able to go with him and the children.

She had a job to do and knew it was for the greater good, as it would keep Illya safe from his brother. The attempt on she and the children seemed to have been more of a ruse to draw Illya out, but thanks to Waverly ordering his confinement along with the family, Andropov was now deprived of his target.

.

Kuraykin went to his office after leaving Mansur, did paperwork, then tried working his lab, but his experiments seemed not to hold his interest. Kiril was too much on his mind and he decided he needed to talk to Napoleon before he went off half cocked after his brother. Illya shook his head surprised to even be thinking that...his brother. He headed for his partner's office hoping to talk things out over lunch.

The discussion that ensued all but eliminated his appetite.

"What?" Illya blurted out, completely taken off guard.

"I said that you and your children are being sent to a safe house outside of the city, Dr. Mansur's ordered it, and both Schneider and Waverly have signed off on it," Napoleon said calmly.

What Solo heard but barely understood was a running string of epithets growled in Russian, some of which were so colloquial that he had no idea what exactly his partner was saying, but what he did manage to catch was rather nasty.

"They cannot do this to me!" he snarled.

"Hey, not my call chum, sorry," Napoleon lied.

"And Elliott will not be coming?"

"No."

Napoleon stepped behind his desk, watching Illya pace back and forth; picturing the wheels turning at top speed in the Russian's head.

Illya stopped, opening his mouth to say something but before he could, Napoleon cut him off. "What ever it is, the answer is No."

"You have no idea what I was going to say!" Illya was becoming indignant at this point; crossing his arms in front of his chest, giving his partner one of his best icy cold stares."

"The answer is still no...sorry."

"We will see." lllya glared as he turned away, walking out of the conference room.

.

Twenty minutes later in Waverly's conference room, the Russian lowered his head like a child being scolded as he stood before the Old Man.

"Not one word further Mr. Kuryakin. You are considered expendable when on assignment, but in this particular situation I will not risk losing my number two agent and that is final. You and your children are in peril and I will not have you involved in this affair."

Illya did the one thing he had never done in all his years at U.N.C.L.E. and that was talk back to Alexander Waverly.

"Oh and I suppose that it is alright that my wife stays behind when she is equally at risk as well?" he snapped.

"Young man, speak to me like that again and you will regret it."

"Sorry sir I meant no disrespect, but logic would stand to reason that Kiril would try to harm Elliott again, would it not?"

"Your wife is known by her maiden name within these walls as well as by the pseudonym of Manning that you and she use for your family. We discovered that Andropov was able to get your address from the hospital and nothing more, since you were admitted under the name Elijah Manning."

We have our doubts that he even knows what Miss McGowan looks like. I will assure you that I have no intention of sending her into the field. She will remain at headquarters and assist Mr. Solo with the translation of Russian along with several people from the linguistics division as I have assigned him to locate Mr. does that satisfy you?"

Illya shrugged then nodded halfheartedly.

"I could keep you here at headquarters to assist with that, however, my concern is not only for you, but for your children. Little ones cannot be couped up in such a sterile environment, and Dr. Mansur has advised me that you being with your son will be integral to his recovery from his recent traumatic experiences."

Waverly picked up his pipe, lighting it and puffing away for a moment and as the smoke billowed toward Illya, it made him sneeze."

"So are we clear on this Mr. Kuryakin?"

"Yes sir." he lied, knowing there was no point arguing with a man as stubborn and as powerful as Alexander Waverly.

.

ref * "The Vengeance is Mine Affair"


	7. Chapter 7

Illya lifted Demya to the back seat of the van marked _Carmines Cleaning Service,_ which was in reality part of the housekeeping division of U.N.C.L.E. and a legitimate business, then he passed his daughter to the waiting arms of Olga. He turned to Elliott, not trying to mask his emotions as was his custom. He looked very unhappy being resigned to this separation from his wife and job.

"I will repeat that I am against you staying...for all the good it will do?"

"Illuysha please do not worry? Just take care of our babies and I will see ye when this is all over with. Then we can go home and be together in peace."

"Needless to say, I will be doing a major upgrade on the alarm system." He tried giving her a half smile, but wasn't very successful.

"Please don't worry, everything will be fine. Just keep our babies happy until I see them...and you again. Ye are my big Russian baby too," she whispered in his ear.

That made him smile. "Oh am I no longer your randy Russian?"

"Of course ye still are and ye can demonstrate it when this is all over."

"I love you very much." he said as he slowly cocooned her in his arms, holding her tightly before giving her a quick kiss good bye. Elliott could feel a slight tremble in his body, and she fought back not to shake herself. He let her go, and climbed into the van, lifting a sleepy Demya into his lap then pulled the windowless door closed behind him.

Elliott watched as it pulled out of the underground garage right on time, the same time it left every evening. She composed herself then went back into headquarters to the women's locker room, changed her clothing then headed back out to the garage fifteen minutes later.

Napoleon pulled up in a dark sedan beside Elliott where she stood waiting, pushing open the door for her.

He studied her for a moment, as she had changed into a very plain mid calf skirt, a dark blouse, with a grey cardigan sweater and her hair was pulled back into a severe bun. Her face had been made up, covering her freckles, making her complexion look very pale, and her eye color had been changed from blue-grey to dark brown by the use of contact lenses.

She climbed into the passenger seat beside him, not saying a word.

"I know you're not comfortable with this," he finally broke the silence.

"It is what it is." she answered,though she knew he was right. " Ye know that Waverly told Illya I'm not going out in ta the field. So how are we getting this one by on the Old Man, as it's contradicting his word?"

"Ellie, I'll handle Waverly. Once we find Andropov it'll be a moot point anyway."

"I hope ye are right Napoleon, it's bad enough Illya will be mad at me, I don't need the Old Man on my case too. Ah sure but what the hell," she laughed. Her sense of excitement at being back in the field had just negated those concerns. " So where are we heading?"

"The linguistics people along with some section III agents have already gone through the the business sections of Brighton, so you and I are going to check out the less savory parts of the town. That's where your fluency in Russian is going to come in handy, as you'll be able to handle the more earthy colloquialisms that I haven't a clue about."

"Oh really, so just like Illya doesn't get American colloquialisms, ye don't get the Russian ones? I'm thinkin' the shoe is on the other foot now Mr. CEA." she laughed at him.

"Not a word of this to Illya, otherwise I'll never hear the end of it with him."

"Perish the thought," she said, giving her best imitation of her husband.

"Elliott, that was a little scary," he stared at her for a moment "They say that married couple start to become alike after a while, but I swear if you get like Illya, I'll..." he paused, "never mind. Alright down to brass tacks and no joking that you don't get that saying please? We'll be talking to barkeeps, anyone involved in backroom operations and so forth. I have a feeling Andropov's holed up with some of his cronies, maybe from the Russian mob."

"Shouldn't we have a bit more backup in that case?"

"No, this is an exploratory trip tonight. I just want to see if anyone is willing to admit they've seen him. Perhaps you could say your his sister, trying to find him before his enemies do. You'll pass, with your red hair I think."

"Oh great," she said speaking with a childish voice in Russian," Pazhaluista, pomogite mne,-eer_ please help me sir. I have to find my only brother as his life is in danger."

Napoleon laughed, " Yeah, something like that. This is why I wanted you to dress down and look less like your gorgeous Irish self and more like a poor Russian immigrant sister, being so forlorn. Try adding this to your woe-begone story that you know your brother is in hiding, but you need to find him as your...mother is dying."

"Jay-sus, this is gettin' better by the second. Napoleon, are all your plans usually this vague and off the cuff?"

"Yup."

"How has Illya tolerated that all these years, ye know how exact and meticulous he is about things."

"Ellie, he's learned to trust my instincts, though at times I have to admit they were wrong and I should have listened to that pessimism of his."

"Would it help if I told ye I was feeling a bit pessimistic about it right now?" she smiled.

"Nice try, but you're not your husband; no one can exude pessimism like he can."

Solo parked the car a block away from their target area, starting at one local bar and working their way down the street. They were receiving little cooperation until they walked into the fourth place called the Arkangelsk, when the barman called out to them in Russian.

"Eí, ni odna zhenshchina ne pozvolia zdes'. Vy drama pryamo syeichas, eto bar muzhskaya_hey, no women allowed in here. You lady out now, this is men's bar!"

"Pozhaulista, prostomomet vremeni_please just a moment of your time," Napoleon asked, "I am trying to help my friend here locate her brother, she really needs to find him."

Elliott stood beside Napoleon with her arms crossed, clutching herself and looking very timid.

"Oh uzh_ oh really? Well you mister are no from Russia, that much I tell because your accent is tarrible." He laughed in English.

Before Napoleon had a chance to respond to the insult Elliott interrupted, launching into a tirade of Russian at full speed. She was speaking so rapidly that Napoleon could barely make out every other word.

"Ne umayaet moego druga , potomu chto yego Rossiya ne nastol'ko horosh, on lish' pytalsya pomoch' mne_ do not belittle my friend because his Russian is not so good, he is only trying to help me?

Ya dolzhen naiti moy brat Kiril Nickovich. Nasha mat' umirael my dolzhny yego...Mama nuzhdaet-sya v nem. Pozhaluista yesli vy znaete gde on yest', pozhaluista, pomogite mne? Razve vypokazyvayut nekotorye dobrutu i pomoch' odnomu iz vashih lyudydi_can you not show some kindness and help one of your own people?" Elliott turned on the water works, beginning to cry in front of the man.

Napoleon got the gist that she was giving him the dying mother cover story as they had agreed but that was about it. The last time he had heard Russian being spoken this fast was when she and Illya were having a fight, while Elliott was angrily smashing plates on their kitchen floor one Sunday morning.*

The barman's demeanor softened as Elliott gave him the saddest, tear filled, puppy dog eyes he'd ever seen.

"Otkuda ty devshka_where are you from girl?"

"Ya iz Novgoroda_I am from Novgorod."

"A gde tvoi otets_Where is your father?"

"Mama, moy brat i ya bezhal syuda, no papa umer v Kolymar...Ya znayu KGB i shchet moy brat, no my nuzhadaemsya v nem, pozhaluista_ Mama, my brother and I escaped to come here, but Papa died in Kolymar...I know KGB seeks my brother, but we need him, please?"

The barman lowered his head, looking torn about making a serious decision. "Your brother he has the red hair like you but darker and beard?" He suddenly whispered in heavily accented English.

"Da."

"I have seen him at social club at end of street. But be careful as that is a very rough crowd of hooligans and mobsters there, some former KGB and spies I think too. He will be there tomorrow night as there is big card game going on and your brother fancies himself quite the gambler and he likes the women too. But I suppose you know that already. I will say prayer for your family." Then he turned his back to them, wiping a glass with a bar towel before he placed it in the rack.

"Spacibo, spacibo tovarisch," Elliott whispered. Napoleon put his arm around her shoulders, as she continued to feign her gratuitous tears. Together they walked out of the the tavern, standing under one of the lone street lamps that illuminated the sidewalk.

"Bingo!" she laughed as soon as they were away from the door of the tavern.

"You are good Ellie," Napoleon said, releasing her from his grip.

"Hey, when ye've got it, ye got it and I have it," she laughed softly as they headed back up the block together.

"Mmm, gee, I've heard that saying before." Napoleon smiled.

They returned to headquarters, immediately setting the research department to task, getting all the information they could about this card game at the Murmansk Social Club as they'd found out the name after doing a drive by when they left.

It was apparently one of a number of fronts used by the local low-level mob as part of their gambling and prostitution rings. Given Andropov's proclivity toward these things, it was not surprising he would head to such a place. The people running the show were expatriates, not KGB friendly, but Kiril Andropov could assume another identity easily. but still dangerous in their own right.

The bar man was correct in his assumptions as there were some former people from military intelligence known to hang out there, who'd disappeared from the Soviet Union and surfaced in Little Russia, making a lucrative life for themselves rather than continuing to serve a thankless government. But they chose a rather dirty business for themselves to practice free enterprise and entrepeneurship.

Elliott picked up her communicator pen. "Channel D scramble-Kuryakin."

"Kuryakin here."

"Illuysha, how are ye and the children?"

"Annushka we are fine. Demyachka is very happy to be playing outside, and to be honest, he has tired me out. Our little girl is as lively and happy as ever...I am missing you very much as are the children. Olga has been cooking like a madwoman. I think she sees this as an opportunity to try to fatten me up," he whispered.

Elliott laughed at the though Illya putting on weight. "I doubt she could do that, as I haven't... I miss ye all too. I do have good news, we're pretty sure we...Napoleon has located Andropov, he's supposed to be at card game at social club called The Murmansk, tomorrow evening."

"The Murmansk? I know that place well, very dirty place. It does not surprise me that is where he has sequestered himself. He was always into gambling heavily and he likes his _women_." Illya didn't tell her that Kiril actually liked to rough women up, recalling several episodes where he had to rescue prostitutes from nearly being beaten to death by him. That would have opened up a whole other can of worms that did not care to go into with her.

"Oh so ye know this place well?" Elliott changed her tone of voice to tease him.

"Only for professional reasons my love, I have made use of informants from time to time who frequent The Murmansk and that is all."

"Really?" She continued to taunt him.

"Elliott, you know I do not like to gamble and I would never pay for sex with a prostitute!" He said in his defence.

"I know, I was only joking," she laughed. " Kiss my babies good night for me will ye?'

"You do not wish to speak to Demya?"

"No, it might do more harm than good at the moment. I love you Illya."

"Anya, I love you."

She could hear loneliness those words." "Don't worry Illuysha, it'll be all over sooon."

"Why do I have the feeling that you are up to something?"he asked.

"Me, up ta something, why would ye think that?"

"Because I know you, Elliott Tatayana McGowan."

"Wow, ye haven't called me that in a long time...look I have ta go, love ye. Out"

The signal shut down abruptly. Illya's feelings changed as he knew from her dodge that his wife was doing something she shouldn't be doing and that wasn't good.

"Channel D-Solo."

"Illya, what's up?"

"What have you got my wife into?"

"Nothing."

"Why do I sense otherwise?"

"Look, she went with me to do a little translating that's all, you know my Russian isn't quite up to speed."

"You took her to the Murmansk Social Club! Napoleon Waverly said she was would not be in the field on this, how could you do that? She..."

"She's fine and I did not take her to the Murmansk. She went with me on recon to some of the local bars to act as translator." He wasn't lying, but he was not going to tell his partner that Elliott would be going with him to the Social Club as part of his plan.

Illya settled down immediately. "Napoleon please be careful at the Murmansk, many ex-KGB and Russian mobsters are there. It is a very dangerous place."

"More dangerous than a Thrush satrap being run by a mad scientist bent on ruling the world?"

"Da."

.

* ref "The Cabin in the Woods Affair"


	8. Chapter 8

The Murmansk Social Cub had its usual assortment of thugs and lowlifes occupying its front room, sitting off to the side were an array of women in all shapes, sizes and in varying states of undress...hookers waiting to ply their trade.

Maxim Lavochkin who was their pimp was from Smolesnsk on the Dnieper river just west-southwest of Moskva, ignored them. He reminisced about his days in the capital of Russia, where he used to run the same sort of operation, though not as visible as this one. Moskva, _there_ was a place to make money, as the civil servants and political traffic having their dirty little needs and vices fulfilled made for good business. In that city he supplied not only women for his customers, but men as well...here not so much.

He fled his life there in Russia not because of it but in spite of it. He liked money, and the Soviet Union did not like their people having it. That made it harder to operate because of the interference of those extolling the virtues of a Communist State, and the bribes were just getting to be too high. Here in America it did not cost him as much to grease the palms of the right people and it was easier to make money here, lots of money.

He looked down at the gaudy diamond rings that adorned his stubby fingers and smiled at them; that was what he liked as they were symbols of his success.

"After all they embraced that in America... entrepreneurship, did they not?" he laughed to himself.

His de'vushkapo vy'zvui_ call girls, they were of no consequence to him until a potential _John_ came to engage their services and all he wanted to see was the customer's money and if he didn't see that, then the customer saw the blade of his knife.

The last client who tried to tried not to pay by scamming that the girl didn't service him properly felt cold steel on his prick and he had the drunken gall to quote the Russian writer Mikhail Lermentov to the girl before Maxim took his payment from him in another form.

"And so I will not pay. However if you are a simple blyad_bitch, you can consider it an honor to be acquainted with the cadet's khuy_dick."

Maxim snickered to himself, remembering the fool running out the door trying to hike up his trousers with one hand, while the other held held what was left of him between his legs. The durak_fool was lucky he was in a good mood that day.

Such incidents were rare as he had honed his reputation for resolving such trivial problems; though he had to admit he did admit enjoying slicing the idiot up. But those days were gone now as the Johns knew better here; in Moskva there were plenty of fools to deal with, but not so much here in New York. Here the customers were not afraid to talk to each other and word spread quickly of Maxim's solutions to his clientele problems.

"Well one had to take the bad with the good." he sighed.

Maxim Lavochkin was a squat man with bloated face, having bulbous nose in the middle of it and appeared as if he would fall over if someone looked at him too hard.

He was all fat and no muscle. A chain smoker who reeked of the sour smell of burnt tobacco with his fingers stained yellow from nicotine, his black hair was greasy, slicked back on his head and he always wore a leather jacket that was too small to cover his fat belly, and the leather stank of body odor.

How he managed his stable was an enigma to others as any of his girls looked as though she could easily take him with one hand tied behind her back.

"Maximsvin'i_Maxim the pig, the girls always called him behind his back, but made sure he never heard it, if he did he'd surely have them roughed up and take a bigger cut of the pittance they were paid for their services.

He would constantly remind them that they were lucky they were local whores and not ones imported from the Russia. Those girls were as good as slaves, rarely saw the light of day and were paid nothing.

"What he wouldn't give for a few bitches like that?" he wished as he lit up a large Cuban cigar, adding to his stench that was barely noticeable as his Club was constantly filled with clouds of smoke from smouldering cigarettes.

The juke box was blasting _Dorogyi Dlinnoyu__By The Long Road. A version of it had been done in America and retitled _Those Were The Days and it_ was being played all over the radios in Little Russia. It was rare to hear anything that reminded the people of Brighton Beach of home, much less something on WCBS FM. But he would not allow that American crap in his club, even if was based on a Russian song.

Business was slow today, but he knew he'd make money tonight from the big card games in the back room, his cut for hosting the illegal gambling would be good, especially with _him_ being here.

As decrepit and bad as Maxim was, he knew that the man who had recently taken up residence in his club was even worse.

He suspected that Kiril Andropov was with Soviet intelligence, or maybe even KGB, but he was afraid to ask. The man was spending money like it was water, gambling, drinking and screwing quite a number of the girls in the few days he'd been there.

The man had a voracious appetite for women, but as much as Kiril liked fucking them...he seemed to hated them.

His kind of sex was rough and he had beaten up several of the hookers, though paid extra to do it. In the long run it didn't matter to Maxim who the man was or what he did, as long as his money was good. But still Andropov made him nervous and he would feel better once the man left, at least he hoped that he was leaving?

Kiril Nickovich Andropov sat in one of the rooms at the back of the building that were used by the prostitutes; he made sure this one was free of the cameras that dog of a pimp used to film the clientele. Whether he used it for blackmail or making pornographic films, it didn't matter; he knew better than to assume such things were removed and swept the room for bugs and surveillance equipment himself.

He had a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth and was dressed in a similar fashion to Maxim but unlike the pig he was clean and neatly groomed and his clothing well fitted. Kiril had no desire for the decadent trappings as did Lavochkin. He detested the man, but he had his uses at the moment.

He looked at himself in the mirror admiring his new look with his auburn hair combed back and his goatee shaved off. He thought he resembled in a strange way the Amerikanskii actor, James Dean as he turned his jacket collar up for effect and his for some reason he found amusing. Then again he saw the face of his accursed brother in that reflection as well, but that was something he could do nothing about...for the moment.

Kiril looked at his surroundings, realizing this pathetic little social club was a perfect hideout for him. There was food...Russian food, plenty of vodka, good Russian whores to fuck and card games to play. These at least were things to keep him occupied while he waited for the svolach' meshock_ scumbag Kuryakin to resurface.

His failure to kill him at the U.N. was a setback, but merely a delay of they inevitable. His ploy to get Kuryakin to come out of hiding by lighting the home ablaze had failed, again another delay. But he knew eventually the man had to come out of hiding.

He couldn't believe that Illya was married with children of his own, wondering how it had been permitted as he was an active intelligence operative. He had followed the man's career as best he could, waiting for the opportunity to present itself, when he could kill him. The marriage and family were apparently a well kept secret, and his accidental discovery of it had been a boon.

"Married." he laughed, yet that was so like Kuryakin, putting himself above the rules, even with this ridiculous organization U.N.C.L.E. Illya and his superior, know-it-all attitude still had not changed but it would soon and permanently.

The man had deserted his own country to serve this bourgeois master and had given in to decadence...the house he lived in was big and well furnished and the room he set on fire filled with books...his brother with his _damned_ books. His life style, "more proof that he was a traitorous and pompous dog," Kiril spat, then swallowed another glass of vodka.

"One of many reasons why Kuryakin deserved to die."

He would bide his time; having waited for this long for his overdue revenge against Illya Kuryakin, he could wait a little longer. Once the deed was done he would return home a hero, having ridden the Soviet Union of one more traitor. Perhaps KGB would give him a promotion?

His explanation for his disappearance would be that Illya had tried to kill him because of an old rivalry and he needed to go underground until he could dispatch the traitor...it was a plausible explanation, one that he was sure his superiors would believe, especially once he reported that the great Illya Kuryakin was indeed dead.

He thought for a moment, "Perhaps I will kill the wife and children after all and rid the world of that accursed Kuraykin name?" he laughed wickedly to himself. Kiril couldn't bear it, so why should they? He had the right to the family name, yet was denied it, yes killing them seemed like a good idea too, but not until Illya was out of the way. He laughed out loud again.

Most people frequenting the backrooms of The Murmansk thought Andropov to be a bit on the crazy side, and he sitting there laughing for no apparent reason added fuel to the fire. But few of the criminal element there though were more than willing to hitch themselves to Andropov's wagon. He didn't have to pay them, as his perceived _power_ drew them to him.

Staking out U.N.C.L.E. headquarters, The Mask Club and Kuryakin's house was one of the favors they did for their new compatriot, having succeeded in getting the Manning address from a candy-striper working on the floor where the agent was hospitalized, and for a small bribe got her to accesses the records.

"Elijah Manning and his wife Elise, a British couple and their children residing in the Washington Square section of the Village. "Such a bourgeoisie cover name in a bourgeoisie part of New York, " Kiril snorted, allowing the green monster of jealousy rise to the surface along with his hatred for his brother.

A blond girl sat in a chair beside him, staring blankly as if waiting to be called to life, showing nothing in her face as Kiril put his hand up her mini skirt, shoving his fingers into her.

He laughed at her lack of reaction. "Vy by sdelat' horoshii shpion_you would make a good spy,"he whispered as he grabbed her by the arms, pulling her towards him and kissing her hard. "Davaite_let's go, I want some pussy now."

Sonya mindlessly rose from her chair, numbing herself to what was to come. She had been bedded by this one before and knew he liked his sex rough, very rough.

Kiril dragged her, pushing her down to the floor. "Na kaleni suka_ on your knees, bitch!" He unzipped his fly, presenting her with his member. " And I better not feel any teeth," he warned her.

After a few minutes he pulled her away from him, grabbing her by her blond hair, dragging her onto the bed. He drew a switchblade from his pocket, snapping it open, then proceeded to slice the meager clothing from her.

"Ei, eto moy odezhdy_hey these are _my_ clothes," she protested, then realized her mistake when he back handed her across the face.

"Zatknis' shlyuha_shut up whore! You do not talk unless I tell you to."

Sonya rubbed her stinging cheek with her hand, finally letting her fear surface. She shook as the beast of a man ripped what was left of her clothing from her, then pulled her to her knees at the edge of the bed. She could feel him readying himself, and cried out as he shoved his prick into her without warning.

Kiril pounded into her violently, not caring if it gave her pleasure or not. He held her by the waist with one arm, then with his free hand he groped her breasts, pinching them hard with his fingers.

He leaned forward, pulling her around, contorting her to expose one of them, then bit into it making her scream but only laughed at her pain.

Kiril thrust harder then paused, then thrust once, then again before he exploded inside her with a loud groan. He shoved her aside then pulled up his pants, zipping his fly closed.

Sonya lay on the bed, covering her bloody breast with her hand as he smiled at her with his cruel mouth. Then he tossed money at her.

She considered herself lucky, this was not as bad as the last time.

"Iz blyad_out bitch! I want to sleep," he said coldly.

Sonya gathered up what was left of her clothing and the generous tip he'd given her. She'd have to find something off the costume rack to wear. Those were the things they wore for the customers who had their little fantasies and fetishes.

Maxim owed her for putting up with this one, this "mudak_asshole," she cursed under her breath as she disappeared out the door, but then looking at the money Kiril gave her, she reasoned what he'd done to her wasn't so bad for this sort of tip.

.

Illya and the children were gone and it was time to prepare to capture Andropov one way or another. This card game tomorrow would be his _in _except Napoleon was now having a change of heart regarding Elliott's involvement. At first he was planning to take her to The Murmansk as part of his cover but now he wasn't so sure.

"What the devil are ye on about Napoleon?" Elliott demanded of him.

"I said you're not going with me to the Social Club."

"Like hell, I'm not! I'm in on this operation and ye'll not dump me. And besides, ye can't do it alone...yer Russian isn't good enough, ye said so yerself! I'm going whether ye feckin' like it or not," she smiled at him threateningly.

He'd forgotten about her temper as Elliott had become quite low-key as of late; she'd been curbing her language as well.

"Please don't argue with me Ellie. I don't want to risk you being in on this one, and you've been of tremendous help already. But that's going to be your contribution to this mission. Capisce_understand? he said to her in Italian, readying himself for his role.

"Oh a feckin' translator? Ye could have used someone from linguistics fer just that!"

"Maybe it wasn't the best of ideas bringing you in on this."

"What ye think I can't take care of myself all of a sudden?"

"No it's not that, but..."

"Yah, but what?" She was obviously becoming more annoyed.

"It's guilt, I'm feeling guilty about not letting you go with your family."

"Hey it was just as much my decision ta stay as it was yours. I am a very capable agent as ye well know."

"Yes I know, you're _very dangerous_," he repeated the words she had said to him when they met years ago. " but you're also the mother of two children who need you, not to mention the wife of my best friend who also needs you."

"Napoleon, my husband and I have already come ta terms with this, especially after what happened ta Demmy." She placed a hand on his shoulder, "Both Illya and I decided that we can't live in fear, that it can't rule over our lives. Fear won't control us, and we'll have ta deal with the past when it returns ta haunt us. We still have a duty ta perform."

"But don't _you_ have a duty to your family as well?"

"Oh but I do and Illya doesn't? It has ta be the same for both of us. The only reason ye know damn well Illya isn't involved in this affair is because of Waverly's order and ye know it... mind ye, I'm happy he's not here ta get pulled inta this. But ye pulled me inta this and I've come willingly, so ye are not taking me out of it... and that's final"

"Waverly did tell him you weren't going into the field and you did say you were concerned about going against the Old Man's word, didn't you?" he smiled at her.

"Oh no, ye'll not be throwing my own words against me. I'm in on this one Napoleon Solo, whether ye want me or not. And ye don't think my children are not on my mind? Illya and I both know as long as our babies are safe, then we can do our jobs. I made a compromise by leaving the field and taking on my position with section three, but that doesn't mean I can't go inta the field, as the Old Man pointed out."

"And if one or both of you are killed?"

"That's a risk we both agreed upon and are willing ta take, ye know that? Napoleon yer in the same boat ye know?"

"My wife isn't an U.N.C.L.E. agent ."

"And Illya and I know that if something happens ta us then our babies will well taken care of, that's why we made ye and Bella their guardians."

Napoleon sighed, as he knew that he wasn't going to win this one. She was as stubborn as Illya. They must really love each other a lot, other wise they could have ended up killing each other with their pig-headedness, but something had changed between them.

He could see a renewed determination, they were going to fight for what they wanted. They had different challenges to face than did he and Bella and somehow they figured out how to meet them head on and still love each other intensely in spite of it all. They would not let the real world, the one of danger and intrigue block their path to happiness.

When Elliott heard him exhale as if in resignation, she knew that she'd won her argument.

"Okay then, so what's the game plan fer tonight?


	9. Chapter 9

He crawled up behind them as they sat around the campfire, Uncle Vanya, Papa, Dimitry as well as other men from the gypsy tribe, all talking in low hushed voices.

One of the scouts named Persha had just arrived with news of the German moment within Bykivnia forest.

"The patrols are getting closer. If we stay here then surely we will be discovered."

"How many days away?" Nickolaí asked.

"Two at best."

"Then we will move," Vanya Ursari announced. "We break camp in the morning and must leave no sign that we were ever here. I found us a perfect place within Bykivnia near a ravine. It will offer us good cover and will be our camp for the winter. Only gypsies can find it and no one could discover it even by accident as it is deep within the forest. There we will be safe."

He reached into a satchel on the ground beside him, pulling out a primitively made glass bottle containing a clear liquid.

"We drink to better days," he said holding it up, taking a swig from it then passing it to his nephew Nikolaí, then he in turn to his eldest son Dimitry.

"To our safety and health of our family and friends, for times to do not bode well for us, the Rom," Vanya added.

"Illuyshenka, come our from your hiding place now. Come to Papa." Nikolaí called to his other son who was buried beneath the bushes listening to his elders. Illya crawled out on his hands and knees, going to his father, expecting to be scolded for spying.

Nickolaí Kuryakin looked into his young son's bright blue eyes, pleased that they showed no fear, then he laughed.

"Sit, it's time you joined us. You are growing into manhood before your time." He handed the bottle to Illya, waiving his hand for the boy to take a sip.

He hefted the bottle to his lips, excited that he was getting his his first taste of vodka and full of pride that his father called him almost a man, in spite of being only eight years old. Illya swallowed the burning liquid; it making him cough and sputter as he drank it.

That made them all laugh and it earned him a slap on the back from his big brother Dimitry.

"Papa,"Illya gasped, "that was good." Then he sucked in more air.

That made them laugh all the more as they continued to pass the bottle along.

Some of the musicians and women walked over to join them and one of the older men with a violin in his hands struck up some notes on the strings as he began to sing out; modulating his voice in the gypsy style while he looked at one of the dark-eyed women who began a sultry dance.

It was Nadezhda, Kiril's mother who circled around the men as they sat beside the fire.

"Ochi Chornyye, ochi stratsnyye

Ochi zhaguchiye i prekrasnyye,

Kak lyublyu ya vas, Kak boyus' yavas

Zhat' uvidel vas ya v nedodoryi chas".

Then another of the men took up the next verse, keeping it in the same key but accompanying his voice with an old piano accordion, then the next man took up a verse as the song continued.

"Dark eyes, passionate eyes

Brown and splendid eyes,

How i love you, how I fear you

Verily I espied you in an ill-starred moment"

.

"O not for nothing, are you darker than the deep,

I see mourning for my soul in you.

I see a triumphant flame in you

A poor heart immolated in it."

.

"But I am not sad, I am not sorrowful

My fate is soothing to me

All that is best in life, God gave us.

In Sacrifice I returned to my fiery eyes!"

"Y shertvu otdal ys ognevym glazam!_in sacrifice I returned to my fiery eyes!"

Illya listened to the haunting song, thinking at first they were serenading the beautiful Nadezhada, but then the emotion that they put into their singing was deeper that of longing for a woman. They were singing not to her but to their way of life that was being threatened. This was the gypsy way, to sing and drink to the life they loved even in the face of death.

It was said the Nazis were hunting down the Rom along with the Jews; these were things that Illya found hard to comprehend at first. The thought of these soldiers killing people like they were animals seemed unthinkable.

When the song concluded, they walked away from the fire one by one, each returning to their tents. Illya went down to the spring to fill his water skin and there he came face to face with the boy Kiril hiding in the shadows.

"Vy dumaete, chto takogo osbennogo_you think you are so special, do you not?" he whispered to Illya." They letting you drink with them like you are a grown man? You are no man, you are a just a puny little boy, a nobody! And _you_ are going to die."

Illya was taken aback, not just by the words, but also by fact that Kiril Andropov the _loner,_ had spoken to him. He looked at the boy, studying him for a moment. They were nearly the same age and from his appearance Illya guessed that being a member of the tribe, they were somehow distantly related. But Kiril never acted like anyone else in his gypsy family. He was strange, aloof and always seemed secretive and angry.

"Nyet, I do not think that," he answered." And I am not a puny little boy; I am a partisan and I help as best I can, unlike you Kiril. And why do you say I am going to die...to frighten me? Why are you always so mean? I have done nothing to you."

"Zanachit...zanachit- mean..mean? You accuse me? I am the one who should have been sitting in that circle not you. Me! It should be me!" Kiril lashed out, shoving Illya to the ground as he ran off into the night.

Illya picked himself up, brushing the dirt from his clothes, then went back to his tent. He told Dimitry of the boy's strange behavior, asking why Kiril had said it should have been him sitting at the fire?"

"Illuysha, stay away from him. Trust me when I say he is bad news. Just do not talk to him again. That boy...no good will come of him someday."

He did as he was told, avoiding the auburn-haird boy as he continued to do what was needed of him to help the partisans succeed in their battle against the Nazis. Little did he know then that not much longer after retreating to the secret winter camp that his life would change forever.

Illya sat in the safe house letting the old memories return to him as now after all these years Illya now knew why and who their betrayer was. He never thought it strange that Kiril had survived the slaughter in the camp, as he was always wandering off on his own. And to think all those years ago, back in Russian when Kiril latched onto him, following him, emulating him; that he was taking smug satisfaction in what he had done to the Kuryakin family.

He looked down at his little Lourdes as she slept peacefully in his arms, then looked across the small living room at Demya as he quietly played with his Legos; the love of his children strengthening his resolve to understand what had to be done. He only hoped Napoleon and he suspected his wife would not run afoul of Kiril.

.

Kiril sat to one of the side tables watching the card playing, sizing up the marks that might be his potential opponents. The first round was the game of Oshko, a contest similar to the American blackjack. It was a game of chance, relying strictly on luck and some odds to win and one that he avoided. He never liked relying on luck, as his preference was more towards that of skill.

He would wait for the more serious game of _Syoyi Kozi_, that card game required foresight and calculation. There was no such thing as luck involved with it, for at any time a player knows the exact cards which his opponent has.

It was played with any number of cards in multiples of four, with the ranking of the cards following the standard from Ace downwards for each suit.

In a beginners game there would be thirty-two cards and the seven and eights would be eliminated, but for real players the deck would be twenty-four cards with the sixes and fives included, but still without the sevens and eights.

"There are quite a few people there tonight, new faces." Maxim leaned over whispering to Kiril. "This will be good money tonight."

"Da, horoshie den'gi, no vozmoshno, bolyee interesnye stavki_yes, good money, but perhaps more interesting stakes." Kiril said as he eyed a petite blond in a tight black mini dress. She was standing beside a well dressed man in a dark blue suit. He was well groomed, wearing his beard closely cropped. And like Maxim, he wore diamond rings on his pinkies and was smoking a fat Cuban cigar.

There was another man in a dark grey suit, an expensive Italian one Maxim pointed out, with a red-head behind him. He guessed that she was somehow counting cards but not quite sure what it was she was doing, though she was definitely up to something. If someone was cheating, he didn't care; he still got his money anyway. Cheating sometimes resulted it fights, but that just made the night more interesting.

He wasn't worried as he had a few men out of sight in the corner just in case things got too ugly.

Kiril was disappointed that these two were not winning that much and so might not play in the other game, as he found the woman quite attractive and would have liked to have gotten his hands on her.

No matter, he would settle for the blond, as her companion seemed to be winning all his hands and would most likely be one of his opponents. That game would have high stakes, and he could have some fun taunting the man, putting his decadent ass in its place before he took his money and his companion from him. Of course the durak_fool didn't know that his woman would become part of the pot, not until it became too late for him to back out.

Napoleon glanced around the room, taking note that Andropov now clean shaven with a cigarette hanging from his mouth, had arrived and was scoping out the action. His resemblance to Illya was uncanny, and now he recalled why his partner seemed upset about having had to die his hair auburn for a mission.*

Solo had flashed a large wad of cash and a few well chosen words spoken by Elliott in Russian gained them entrance. There were too many people around, some looking like hoods and others like former KGB hiding in the shadows with their fedoras covering their faces, keeping them anonymous.

He would have to wait to make his move, once things had emptied out a bit, improving the odds for them.

"This was going to be a long night," he sighed to himself, " and wished he could just draw his gun, point it at Kiril and march him out the door in custody, but the odds were that there were too many other guns in the room at the moment, even with Elliott there, it wasn't worth taking the chance.

The players were eliminated one by one until there was only two card players left, surprisingly to Kiril the man with the red-head on his arm had made it through and would advance, and it was no surprise the bearded man with the blond companion succeeded as well.

He mused that it would be a good night, having both a red-head and a blond to fuck as part of his winnings. Kiril was that confident in his ability to win...he never lost at Syoyi Kozi.

Sonya stepped up behind Kiril, but he ignored her as he faced off first against his first opponent, practically salivating at the closer view of the red-head at his side.

Kiril chose his two suits, his opponent selecting his and then the game began.

The Russian took the man for more and more money until he had nothing left to bet and that was when Kiril told him he would take his bitch as collateral.

The man took the news without flinching, and spoke to her in Italian. Her face went red when she heard the terms and protested but was slapped into silence by her companion. Then the final bet was made but within minutes, the man lost and the red-head was dragged by two of Kiril's men to the back bedrooms for her to await his pleasure.

"Ah, ya govotie Russiya_ you speak Russian, my friend?" Kiril asked as he seated himself across from his final opponent.

"Da, i ya, nemnogo_ yes I do, a bit. But my companion here is quite fluent. "Parli Italiano_do you speak Italian?" the man switched languages easily.

"Si, but I will speak Russian, as I would love to hear your lovely friend's voice?" Kiril said as he hungrily eyed her up and down.

The blond placed her hand on her man's shoulder, reassuring him of her presence as she gave him a squeeze, she bent forward revealing her cleavage as she whispered something to him.

This made Kiril even more excited with anticipation. The game itself was almost erotic to him, but this woman being added to the pot made it even more so, as he found her shapely and muscular body very desirable, yet there was something oddly familiar about her. Presuming that she was a whore, he wondered if had the pleasure of her company already.

"So shall we begin Italian?" Kiril spoke to the man in Russian as he downed a shot of vodka.

The woman leaned forward again, translating the question in a sultry voice

"Da," he replied, finding it surreal as how much Andropov looked and sounded like Illya, he could almost be his partner in disguise.

Elliott scanned the room again as the card game began, noting where Kiril's men were hiding. Along with a few patrons and sleazy hookers, there now seemed to be only two of his cronies that she could see, a man in a cheap leather jacket standing at the bar and another in a dark suit by the door, his hands clasped in front of him.

She could easily take them out, leaving Andropov to Napoleon. But not yet, it was his call and would wait until he signalled her to make her move.

Kiril and Napoleon chose their suit, the Russian going with black spades and clubs, with spades as his trump, Solo with red diamonds and hearts with diamonds as his trump.

Then Kiril being the dealer dealt half the deck to himself facing up in a row, then removed those cards from his own suits, then placed the red diamonds and hearts back in the deck. Then he placed down a card, the ten of clubs and now it was Napoleon's turn.

Solo quickly reviewed the rules in his head, he had to play a better card that being the queen of clubs or better, or play one of his trump cards, ignoring the value and putting down a red diamond nine.

The cards flew down quickly, and Kiril won the round, allowing him to play the next card, followed by his opponent's card.

Should a player not be able to follow either of the two rules, then all of the cards on the table had to be taken into his hand. The game ended when one player managed to get rid of all of his cards.

Elliott spotted a third man entering the room, and she leaned forward whispering to Napoleon, pushing her breasts against the back of his neck telling him they were beginning to become more out numbered, hinting it might be time to go for it.

Her sexy little move did exactly what she had anticipated it would and that was distract Andropov, but not in the way she had anticipated.

"We change the stakes now Italian. I play for your woman, Da?"Kiril smiled sickly, gazing at Elliott's chest.

She cursed at him in Russian. "Gryaznye synshlyuha_filthy son of a whore!"

"Zakni yebalouzhe_ shut your fucking mouth! You don't talk unless I tell you to bitch!" He snapped at her. "So is deal Italian?"

"Nyet. No deal." Napoleon answered with a wave of his hand, not waiting for Elliott's translation.

"Ah, playing games with me Italian, so you do speak some Russian after all?" Andropov reached beneath the table, bringing up a Soviet Tokarov pistol into view, placing it in front of him.

"I think deal, da," he growled.

At that exact moment Elliott chose to make a move, not waiting for Napoleon's signal as she fired her Walther hidden within her purse, getting off tranquilizer rounds and bringing down two of Andropov's men as everyone else in the room dove for cover.

Solo drew his weapon as Andropov reached for his but then heard a muffled cry from behind him. One of the prostitutes had Elliott in a headlock and a knife at her throat, holding the point of the blade with enough pressure to cause a little trickle of blood to run down her neck.

If it wasn't for the knife jabbing too close to the jugular vein, Elliott would have taken her out in an instant.

"Try it and she dies...as will you." Andropov said calmly.

Napoleon couldn't take the chance and placed his Special on the table, then clasped his hands on top of his head in surrender.

.

* ref "The Mind Control Affair"


	10. Chapter 10

Andropov handcuffed Solo's hands behind his back, and the girl Sonya did the same to Elliott. He barked an order and Maxim brought him a telephone, and then after making his call several more men appeared to escort the agents to a back room. The prostitute had hitched herself onto Kiril's wagon, sensing his power and she of course liked his money though she earned it the hard way. This man and woman had invaded the territory of the Murmansk, and she had a strange sense of loyalty to it as she sided with Kiril against these two whom she sensed were threatening the club and her living.

Napoleon and Elliott were both strapped into chairs then searched. Removing Napoleon's wallet, and dumping the contents of Elliott's purse; the men taking it all with them as they left the room with it all for Kiril to view the contents.

Andropov entered a few minutes later fuming with anger as he threw their U.N.C.L.E. ID cards on the table. Then suddenly smiled. "So U.N.C.L.E. is trying to hunt the hunter enh? How is my dear brother Illya doing? I am sure that he is now climbing the proverbial walls in your headquarters, as he was never one to take being confined very well, especially if he is still in the hospital. He was never a patient man like myself. Tell me, will he still have the use of his hand?"

"Illya is fine," Napoleon smiled, "and looking forward to a family reunion."

"As am I," Andropov said, " I have found it quite surprising to find that my brother was married and had a family, but I suspect you know that I already took advantage of that information after my little bit of arson at their house. Sadly that manuever did not draw my brother out as I had hoped. Perhaps I need to think this differently, instead of killing him...I should dispose of his family first and make him suffer before he dies."

He was clever, watching Elliott for any signs of reaction and only her eyes gave her away. Stepping towards her; he pulled the blond wig from her head, revealing her red hair.

"You bitch," he said to Elliott, "I knew there was something familiar about you. You _are_ his wife," he said, and I not being sure as I had not gotten a good look at your face that night.

"Sorry ye are mistaken, I'm no one's wife. Our organization doesn't permit that...marriage that is."

Kiril slapped her across the face. "I know who you are. I heard you tell the ambulance driver that night in the alley that you were his wife!"

Elliott's shoulders slumped having remembered uttering those words to the medical tech in the heat of the moment. In her carelessness, she was responsible for the attack on the house," she told herself, " Kiril would not have known to look for their family had he not discovered Illya was married.

"_Feck_," she mumbled to herself, then her fierce temper took over. "Ye go near my babies again and I'l feckin' kill ye with my bare hands, I will!"

"Elliott!" Napoleon called to stop her but it was too late as her threat now confirmed Andropov's suspicion about her identity.

"Da, good so it is you! You will be useful to draw Illya out into the open I think...but first I will have a little fun." He grabbed Elliott by the back of her head, kissing her violently while he groped her with his other hand.

"Leave her alone Andropov!" Napoleon barked at him.

He released her as she spat defiantly in his face, but gave her no reaction as he wiped off her spittle with his arm, then turned suddenly punching Napoleon in the jaw, laughing as he released Elliott from the chair and pulling her from the room after him.

Napoleon was at least alone now and after a few minutes he managed to wiggle the lock pick concealed in the hem of his sleeve into his fingers then he set to work on opening the handcuffs.

He finally freed himself after several minutes of some awkward maneuvering, then exited into a surprisingly unguarded hallway.

.

Andropov looked down hungrily at Elliott as she lay cuffed, spread-eagle on the bed.

"So," he grinned, "time to sample what belongs to the great Illya Kuryakin. Do you think he will mind sharing your pussy with me...we are after all family?" He pulled at her dress, ripping it in the process then bent forward licking and sucking on one of her breasts, then he bit into her but Elliott only showed him a wince of pain."

"So you are a strong one bitch. We'll see how strong you are when I have pounded on you for a bit?"

He tore her panties away, then unzipped his trousers, letting them drop as he preparing to rape his brother's wife.

Elliott cursed Kiril in several languages as he positioned himself to enter her, telling him that if she didn't get to kill him, then Illya would.

At that moment Napoleon burst through the bedroom door, seeing Andropov on top of Elliott; he charged the man grabbing him and pulling him off her, pounding him with his fists to the floor and into unconsciousness.

When the deed was done Napoleon, he quickly searched the man's pocket for the hand cuff keys then freed Elliott's hands and feet. He pulled her up from the bed and held her shaking body for a moment, then wrapped her in the sheet to cover her.

"I'm all right Napoleon, ye stopped him before he could...he know. Thank ye," she said, letting him hold her for a moment.

He admired her courage, knowing that she had been raped violently once before, thinking that a lot of other women might have fallen apart at their husband's brother trying to molest them.

There was a dress hanging in a nearby wardrobe and Napoleon grabbed it, handing it to her to put on. He turned his back as she dropped the sheet, slipping the small sequined mini dress over her head. Once on she realized that her breasts were near fully exposed in this skimpy attire and she cringed at the sight of it.

"May I borrow yer jacket, this get up is not leaving much to the imagination? " she asked.

Napoleon slipped it off, still keeping his eyes averted like a gentleman, even though he'd seen more of her than he'd wanted to remember.

She put it on, holding it tight around herself. "Right then, let's get what we came for and get the hell out of here?"

Napoleon cuffed Kiril's hands then picked him up, hoisting him over his shoulder then he and Elliott headed out into the hallway. She leading the way with Kiril's Tokarov in her hand. They made their way into the gambling room...suddenly Andropov came to, screaming out in Russian.

His men appeared from the shadows, surrounding them, forcing Napoleon let Kiril down.

"Nice try Solo," Kiril said pulling the agent towards him by the shirt and without warning, head-butted him.

Napoleon's head flew back as blood trickled down from his forehead and nose and he fought for a moment to steady himself.

"Voz'mite ih obratno v komnatu_take them back to the room,"Kiril ordered.

A small man with a moustache stepped forward, his face like the others hidden by his hat. "Da," he mumbled then grabbed Elliott by her arms, holding a gun to her head. Suddenly she caught a flash of bright blue eyes from beneath the brim of the hat.

He pulled Elliott along, followed by another more burly man holding onto Napoleon. As they entered the holding room the smaller man turned without warning, slamming his gun into the head of his fellow thug and knocking him out.

He removed his fedora, speaking softly. "I thought you might need some help," smiled Illya Kuryakin.

Elliott went immediately to her husband's arms. "Illyusha, this isn't good."

"What the hell are you doing here?" Napoleon demanded.

"As usual, getting you out of trouble. Once Elliott let slip about Kiril being at The Murmansk, I knew you would be in trouble, and I knew that there would be no way she would not be coming here with you...and do not worry lyubov' moy," he said to his wife," the children are safe in the secure location with Olga as well as a security team.

Illya pulled two more pistols from his coat pocket, handing them to his wife and his partner.

"That evens up the odds now a little more enh?" he smiled. "But do not hesitate to shoot," he whispered, heading out into the hall towards the gambling room, " as this lot would kill us in the blink of an eye."

As soon as he opened the door Illya let off two muffled shots, bringing down the only men there.

They exited, heading down another hallway leading to the front room filled with the prostitutes and Maxim working his deals with the Johns.

The three agents hid their weapons, trying to walk past them all, when a familiar voice called out to them.

"Ah, so Illya Nickovich you have decided to come see your brother after all? And leaving so soon without so much as a good bye...how rude of you? Have you at least not learned any manners in America? Now drop your weapons all of you and slowly place your hands on your heads. No sudden moves."

The three agents complied as Andropov moved closer to them.

"Kiril, you do not need to do this," Illya said softly." You can stay here, we can be...family. You will be happy here as I am." Even after all Kiril had done Illya had softened and was still willing to try to make peace with only living relative.

"Happy..._happy_?" Kiril yelled. "Following in the footsteps of the great agent Illya Nickovich Kurayakin, the very reason for the sufferings in my own life?"

"As I told you before, you are responsible for your own misfortunes, not I. You could never admit that could you?" Illya retorted.

"Nyet! It is you! You caused my life of misery. I had to always walk in your shadow, and did not even have the satisfaction of having our father's name!" Kiril cried out almost like a wounded child.

He drew a blade from the back of his jacket, throwing it down; the point landing in the floor at Illya's feet in challenge. Kiril was a master with a knife and Illya knew it.

"Illuysha don't!" Elliott pleaded.

"Ah see brother, even your woman knows that I am better than you, especially when she felt me between her thighs, " he taunted. "but she was not as good a lay as I was for her.

"He's lying Illya, don't listen ta him." Elliott said.

"Nothing happened!" Napolen called, " don't let him egg you on tovarisch."

Illya remained emotionless as he bent down, picking up the knife in his right hand.

"No Annushka, tonight it ends one way or another." Króshka, ya lyublyu tebya_ baby, I love you." Illya said, then turned his attention back to his brother. " Kiril, you let them go, it is me you want."

Andropov laughed waving his men to take hold of Elliott and Napoleon, pulling them back.

Kiril gave no answer but was bemused at his brother's show of weak sentiment towards the woman. He then assumed a hunched position as he began tossing his own knife back and forth, hand to hand.

Illya took a fighting stance, the knife remaining in his right hand, as his left was still bandaged.

They circled, Illya and Kiril watching each other's moves like hawks they moved in and out mirroring each other for minutes. When suddenly Kuryakin jabbed, feinting with his blade then his body. Kiril rushed at him sweeping with his knife, catching Illya's shoulder with it, drawing first blood and stunning him for a split second.

Andropov smashed his fist into Illya's bandaged hand as he used it to cover the bloody wound on his arm

And was the momentary distraction that Kiril was waiting for, assuming he now had an advantage when he threw his blade at his brother, but Illya ducked from the oncoming weapon then leaped at Andropov. He grabbed him by the throat with his injured hand, wrestling backwards with him across the floor, then took his own knife sticking it point first under Kiril's chin, but then he hesitated.

"Eto vaxh sobstvennyi delaet Kiril_this is your of your own doing Kiril, " Illya said to him."Surely you have to know this? Please, I ask you not to make me do this?"We...we could be brothers?

Kiril only answer was to spit blood in his brother's face.

Illya's anger returned. "Zatem idite k chertu, vy grebanyi ublyudok_ then go to hell, you fucking bastard!" he snarled, as he gave the final violent push against the against handle of the blade, driving it deep into Kiril's neck as he listened to the gurgling sounds of his death throes. He released his brother's body, letting it drop to the floor.

The hookers began to shriek, then they and Maxim scattered like cockroaches in every direction as the retreated from the building.

Napoleon and Elliott turned on the men holding them, taking them down with some strategically placed karate chops. Illya spun, diving to the floor grabbing two of their abandoned weapons, tossing one to Napoleon while he fired his own, taking out one of the goons. Solo reached out catching the pistol in mid-flight, firing it and dispatching another of Kiril's men...the rest ran off, following the hookers and Maxim out of the building.

When it was all over, Elliott walked over to her husband, wrapping her arms around him as Napoleon placed a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder.

Illya stared coldly at Kiril's body, knowing like their father, he too now had committed his own sin...he had murdered his brother. Part of him regretted it, yet part of him did not as he had to do what was necessary to protect his children, his wife and himself.

"Well in this case we can say the adage doesn't hold true,"Napoleon said softly," Yablo ot yabloni nedaleko padyayet_the apple falls not so far from the tree."At least in reference to your broth...ugh, to Andropov that is.

"At first Illya caught in his private thought felt insulted by his partner's remark but then he knew better. Napoleon in his own way was telling him he had done the right thing, as Kiril was not _really_ family and never could be as he was filled with too much hatred and self-loathing.

"Very good Napoleon." he tried smiling. " I think you are finally beginning to get the gist of Russian colloquialisms, now if we could just work on your accent?" Illya broke the tension with that little joke.

Elliott could feel her husband's body trembling just a little as she still held him in her arms " Ye did what ye had to, and now it's over. Don't punish yerself for it? Now let's go get our babies and go home."

Illya looked into his partner's sympathetic eyes, then his gaze shifted to the body of Kiril Nickovich Andropov, knowing that Alexander Waverly was not going to be pleased. He was having one of his intuitive moments, feeling that this was not quite over with yet.

.

Finis...well not quite.


End file.
